


Reflection

by OwlsWithFins



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alteration fic, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Canon Compliant Through Order of the Phoenix, Drarry, Het and Slash, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, POV Alternating, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 84,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7267186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlsWithFins/pseuds/OwlsWithFins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wakes up in Draco's body moments before he's supposed to take the Dark Mark. When they switch back, he assumes things will return to the way they were before. It turns out it's a lot harder to hate someone after taking a walk in their shoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Switched

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! This fic takes place in sixth and seventh year, and is canon compliant through OotP. From there, it veers off in a very Drarry direction ;) Side pairings are Ron/Hermione, Blaise/Seamus, Neville/Luna, Remus/Tonks (with references to past Remus/Sirius). I'll be posting a chapter every other day, and there will be around 20 when it's all said and done. Hope you enjoy it!

Harry woke in a strange bed. It was intricately carved from ebony wood, and the comforter was a blend of deep emeralds, silver accents catching in the pale light. The room was larger than Dudley and Harry’s rooms combined. The curtains were done in the same colors as the comforter, and the furniture rested on a dark marble floor. A very _Slytherin_ aesthetic.

Scrambling into a sitting position, the newly-sixteen-year-old reached up to check his glasses--perhaps they were playing tricks on him--but touched only air. He frowned. How could he see so well without his glasses? Foreign features met his fingertips and he became aware that he was not himself. He pinched a strand of hair between two fingers, pulling it in front of his eyes. Blond. A very particular shade of blond.

At a knock on the door, he composed himself the best he could and said, “Come in.” The voice that emerged from his throat was entirely too familiar. Harry’s stomach dropped. He reached towards the bedside table for his wand only to find one of a different make. He recognized that wand, just as he recognized that voice and that platinum blond hair. They all belonged to none other than--

“Draco,” greeted a demure voice. Harry looked up to see Narcissa Malfoy in the doorway. Her blond hair was pulled back with a glistening clip, revealing a face of clear pale skin and blue eyes. She was draped in an elegant green gown with golden embroidery and stood stiffly in the doorway. Her stoic demeanor made him want to fidget, but he stayed still with effort. She seemed to be expecting a response. Harry forced a small smile on his face.

“Mum,” he said, before realizing how un-Malfoy that was. Narcissa’s eyes widened. Her cold countenance melted, and then she _smiled_ \--an expression full of both love and heartbreaking sadness. Before Harry could comprehend the change, the woman was at his side, her thin form shifting the mattress almost imperceptibly beside him. Her hand rested on his bare shoulder, and she squeezed gently. Harry realized his attire for the first time--apparently Malfoy slept in silk pajama bottoms. The material practically screamed wealth.

“You haven’t called me that for years,” she said.

And though he knew he was walking into dangerous territory, he couldn’t resist wrapping her in a tight embrace. The prospect of having a mother--alive, breathing, and here for comfort--was intoxicating. Narcissa stiffened at first, only to relax a moment later. Her long, thin fingers trailed through her son’s hair, pulling him closer and making “shh” ing noises in his ear.

After a while, the whispers became gentle reassurances. Even though Harry didn’t know what they were for, he felt the warmth and love contained in every word. When they finally broke away, Harry found himself wishing it would last longer.

“Draco, dear, your aunt is waiting.” Her tone was resigned and nostalgic as if she were mourning his death. Harry wondered why, the familiar tug of curiosity lifting his brows. Narcissa wiped his cheeks dry. He didn’t realize he was crying. “We can’t have your Auntie Bella see you in tears.” Then, so quietly Harry almost couldn’t hear, she said, “I’m so sorry...If there was any other way--”

“There isn’t,” Harry interrupted with vehemence, not understanding, but needing to comfort the woman--to take away her guilt. Malfoy’s voice sounded strange to his ears, but he pressed on. “It’s not your fault.” The silky voice was rather pleasant without the snark that usually accompanied it.

Narcissa smiled at him sadly. “Get cleaned up. I’ll send Blinky in with your breakfast.” Her mask snapped back into place, and she smoothed her clothes as she stood. “Your aunt is waiting in your father’s study.” Harry wiped all emotion from his face in turn.

“Thank you, Mother.” At her non-reaction, Harry figured that was the correct response.

She exited, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He wandered into the connected bathroom to the right of the bed. Dark tiles lined the floor, silver flecks glittering in the bluish-white light. Harry took in the abundance of snake decor with a snort. Of course even Malfoy’s house would be bedecked with Slytherin themes. He turned to face the mirror, holding his breath at what he was sure he would see.

His reflection provided further evidence of his dilemma. Draco Malfoy looked back at him from the glass. Puffy eyes were all that remained from his scene moments ago. Harry noted how much better he felt. He hadn’t cried since Sirius’ death--or felt much of anything really. He didn’t even react to the Dursley’s taunts anymore.

When Dumbledore retrieved him so he could meet Horace Slughorn, he had asked not to be brought to the Burrow. At least at the Dursley’s he didn't have to pretend he was back to normal. He could place a mask over his aches, and no one would question his well-being. It was much easier to shut off his emotions than feel pain. His aunt and uncle didn’t bother him much during the rest of the summer--not after Dumbledore’s reprimand--so even the small rise he felt at every insult disappeared. He was a shell. And he thought it was better that way.

Now he felt the familiar whirl of emotions war inside him. It made him feel alive again, and he wished he could have cried sooner. He hadn’t realized just how much he was holding back. The dull ache of regret returned, but it wasn’t so hard to bear anymore.

He took a moment to play with his features, stretching them into different expressions. As he stared into stormy grey eyes, accusations swirled through his mind. Malfoy was to blame for this. It was probably some kind of prank. _Or a ploy to impress Voldemort_ , his paranoid side suggested. Anger bubbled in the pit of his stomach--another emotion he had been suppressing. He was surprised at how good it felt. Fueled by the boiling of his blood, Harry analyzed his situation.

He was supposed to meet with Bellatrix soon. She certainly wouldn’t melt the way Narcissa did at his smile. She’d be far harder to fool, and however Harry got here, he was sure getting found out would lead to disaster. Channeling memories of Malfoy, Harry practiced a look of cool indifference. He’d always liked that expression on the other boy. It was kind of sexy when his brow lifted just so and--

 _Gah! What am I thinking?_ Quickly, he shifted his expression to the dreaded smirk. He was perfecting his sneer when a loud pop sounded from the other room. Blinky must have arrived. She peeked her head around the door, large ears flopping.

“Is Master Draco wanting anything else, sir?” she squeaked.

“No, that’ll be all. Thank you.”

The house-elf’s eyes widened in shock and Harry caught his mistake too late. Malfoy would never thank a house-elf. That realization brought Harry back to his earlier seething. Blinky was dressed in a ratty old pillowcase. He didn’t understand how the Malfoys could treat their elves so poorly. Perhaps he could free this one like he did Dobby. It might get Malfoy into trouble. He practiced the smirk again at that.

“You is very welcome, Master Draco, sir!” Blinky was _bouncing_. “If you is needing anything else, just ask and Blinky will be there!” Harry didn’t point out that she was _required_ to do that. Another pop and she was gone.

He turned back to his reflection, wondering how Malfoy would react to the slip-up. He could almost hear the mutterings of _Stupid Potter..._ He returned his attention to the mirror, trying to find what was wrong with his appearance. Malfoy’s soft features looked even more feminine with Harry controlling them--more open. But that wasn’t it.

When it hit him, he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out. Bed head. Even Malfoy couldn’t wake up with perfect hair. Spotting a tube of gel, Harry began to slick back his hair. It took fifteen minutes to get it right, and Harry admired the amount of energy Malfoy put into his appearance. In comparison, Harry’s roll-out-of-bed-and-run-a-comb-through-once method was rather slobbish.

...Did he just compliment Maloy’s _grooming habits?_ He was losing it.

Harry snagged a piece of toast from the platter Blinky left and wandered over to the closest. It was across the bedroom through a set of double doors. He gaped when they swung open. The closet was nearly as big as the bedroom itself and was impeccably organized. _Of course,_ Harry thought with distaste. _The spoiled brat.._.

“Blinky!” he called, knowing he could never hope to pick out a suitable outfit with so many options. She cheerfully popped into view.

“Yes, sir?”

Harry debated how to address her--as a Malfoy or with the courtesy of a decent human being. He decided on middle-ground. “Would you pick out an outfit suitable for meeting my aunt?”

Blinky frowned slightly, looking almost worried. “Is Master Draco feeling okay?”

Apparently he’d done something wrong. “Pardon?”

Blinky looked at her toes. “Well, Master Draco usually likes to pick out his own clothes. Master Draco is always telling Blinky how important it is for wizards of status to know how to dress.” She looked up nervously and threw in a quick “sir!” at the end.

Caught in his lie, Harry froze, thinking. Part of him wanted to snicker at the Slytherin’s obsession with fashion. Malfoy was such a girl. The other half wanted to run away as fast as possible, knowing he had aroused suspicions. Could he tell her the truth?

“Blinky, did you know Dobby when he worked here?”

Blinky blinked, true to her name. “Of course Blinky did. Dobby was Blinky’s bestest friend, sir.”

“Right, well did he ever talk to you about Harry Potter?”

Blinky’s face grew even more puzzled. “Dobby did, sir. You is always talking to the house-elves about Harry Potter.”

“What?” Harry asked, wondering what that could mean. Perhaps Malfoy spent his days plotting ways to destroy him with the house-elves. Brushing it aside, he said, “Nevermind. Blinky, if I tell you something, will you promise to keep it a secret?”

The elf shifted from foot to foot. “Master Draco knows Blinky is loyal to her masters, sir.”

Harry nodded in thought. He had suspected as much--she was loyal to the family, not to an individual. But since only a direct question from the “masters” would make her give up the information, he decided it was safe to tell her. It was unlikely Narcissa would interrogate Blinky on the identity of their son. He only had to hope she’d remain loyal after she found out the truth. Would family loyalty still work if he was technically a Potter?

“Listen, I’m not Draco.” The name sounded strange on his tongue. “I don’t know what happened, but I woke up here a few moments ago and I need your help. I’m Harry Potter.”

Blinky’s eyes widened--an impressive feat given their naturally large size--and she rushed forwards to shake his hand. “Blinky is honored to meet you, sir! Blinky has heard many great things about Harry Pott--”

“That’s wonderful,” he interrupted. “Blinky, I need you to help me pretend to be Draco. Can you do that?”

Blinky nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir.”

She walked into the closet and pointed at a few clothing items before disappearing to let him dress. The end product was a dark ensemble that contrasted nicely with his pale skin. He admired the way they complimented Malfoy’s figure and spent another minute convincing himself he hadn’t.

When he finally made his way out of the bedroom, he was determined to use his situation to the fullest and get some answers. It took him less than a minute to realize he was completely and utterly lost. The endless rooms and hallways twisted in dizzying patterns, and a certain outspoken painting commented on the circular nature of his path each time he passed. Harry was nearly ready to tear the painting from the wall when he remembered Blinky.

She appeared at his call and led him in a complex route that emptied at the center of a balcony. To the left and right were sets of spiraling staircases. Blinky pointed to a set of double doors below. Harry thanked her and descended the stairs alone.

While the Malfoy Manor was undeniably beautiful, it also felt impersonal and cold. It was difficult to imagine growing up here. He pictured a young Draco Malfoy crawling across the dark marble floors and felt a pang of sadness for the boy. The feeling disappeared when he thought of all the horrible things Malfoy had done to Harry’s friends. There was no excuse for his behavior. Harry had to remember that.

Pulling a cool mask over his features, he knocked on the rich wood. The hollow sound echoed eerily in the large space.

“Enter.”

Harry opened the door to Lucius’ study and strutted in with his best Malfoy swagger. Bellatrix stood before a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, fingering through the numerous volumes. Harry tried to keep his anger in check. This was the woman who killed Sirius. Who destroyed his last chance at a family. His hands curled into fists.

“I see you took your time,” Bellatrix commented, lifting a brow.

“Well, I had to look my best.” Harry tried for lazy confidence as he sat in a leather chair.

Her features hardened. “Get rid of that attitude and show some respect, boy.”

Harry opened his mouth to bite back a retort but remembered where he was-- _who_ he was. Malfoy wouldn’t talk back to his elders, would he? That required courage, something a Slytherin like Malfoy had none of. Swallowing his irritation, he let out a quiet, “I’m sorry, Auntie Bella.”

She didn’t react other than a small “hmph,” but an amount of sick pleasure lit her eyes at his submission. The woman glanced out the window, checking the sun’s position. “It is nearly time.” Harry didn’t dare ask for what. “Don’t mess this up. The Dark Lord--”

Harry hissed internally. His suspicions were right. Malfoy was a junior Death Eater, following in the footsteps of his perfect father.

“--expects your full cooperation. Whatever he asks of you, you will obey without protest.” It must have looked like Harry was going to respond because Bellatrix said, “We will not have this argument again. As a Malfoy, you will fulfill your duty to your family and to the pureblood race. It is your job to make up for your father’s mistakes.” And with that, the door blew open. Bellatrix stood smoothly, curtsying as a cackle escaped her lips. “My Lord.”

Voldemort smiled.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

 _Stupid Potter._ That was Draco’s current thought as he sat in a small room at number four, Privet Drive. This wasn’t how the spell was supposed to work. Of course somehow _Potter_ had to go and mess it up.

He had awoken only moments ago to the shrill sounds of a woman screaming. Blinking his eyes open to a blur of colors, his first thought was ironically, _I wonder if this is what Potter sees without his glasses_ . When he fumbled for his wand and instead found a pair of beaten-up spectacles, he realized just _how_ well this situation mimicked Potter’s experience. The striking white owl caged in the corner made everything click.

Oh, how he _hated_ that boy.

When the knocking and screeching came again, he finally managed to drag himself out of bed. The bedroom was ridiculously tiny--smaller even than Draco’s bathroom. He wondered why the Golden Boy would choose to live in such abominable conditions.

It turned out Potter’s wardrobe was even worse. Not that he expected better with the way the boy dresses, but it was oddly satisfying to see its meager contents. Draco tugged on an oversized T-shirt, mourning the disappearance of Potter’s bare torso beneath the fabric--simply because the shirt was so _hideous_. That was all. Of course.

His day worsened when he realized he was in a _muggle_ house. And the banshee woman--he refused to learn her name out of principle--expected him to cook! When he merely stared at the controls with thinly veiled contempt, the walrus-like man lectured him on his attitude. Draco retorted that the man could get off his fat arse and make breakfast himself if he cared so much.

He was promptly sent to his room for the rest of the day with a warning that he would be skipping the day’s meals. He imagined that punishment worked well on Potter, who never seemed to quit eating. Or perhaps that was _why_ he always ate so much at Hogwarts. Draco didn’t care about the food since he didn’t eat much anyway, but he hated not being able to hex that walrus. At the manor, his parents’ magic kept his own from being detected. It was a privilege that came with being pureblood, and one he sorely missed. Stupid underage wizard laws. Stupid muggles. _Stupid Potter_.

He spent his morning rifling through Potter’s belongings. This quickly bored him, as everything was so very _muggle_. And even those things were very few. Surely Potter had more than this. Draco knew the Potters had nearly as much money at Gringotts as Draco did in his personal vault--though, of course, they couldn’t compare to the _Malfoy_ vault. Perhaps Potter simply kept the rest of his belongings elsewhere.

The latter half of the day was spent conversing with Potter’s owl. It didn’t speak back of course, but it was nice to have someone to talk to, even if it was a bird, and Potter’s bird at that. Early on, the owl seemed perplexed at Draco’s tone--probably far more venomous than Potter’s ever was--but both bird and boy relaxed after a while.

Tears were running down his cheeks in rivulets at the end of his confessions. As soon as he realized this, he wiped at the tears half-heartedly, sniffling. Malfoys did not show weakness. Even so, he didn’t stop the tears from falling--because he was talking to a bird and he was tired of being a Malfoy anyways. He wished his mother were here, but knew he’d put on a strong face for her if she were. He wouldn’t let her see him cry. Because she’d blame herself. And that would be far worse than suffering the pain alone.

When Draco went to sleep that night, it hit him just how lonely he was. And for the first time, as he curled in on himself to mask the chill, he realized maybe the Golden Boy was lonely too.

 

Draco woke to find himself in Harry Potter’s body once again. He didn’t know how he felt about that. Part of him despised being in the skin of his worst enemy, but part of him knew anywhere was better than home. And even being Potter was better than having to suffer through another day as Draco Malfoy, the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Serve-The-Bloody-Dark-Lord.

This morning, the woman’s shrieking included an encore about tardiness and being stuck here for the rest of the year. Draco realized with a shock that it was September first. Excited to get back to Hogwarts after a summer with his aunt and a day with muggles, he dressed quickly. For once he was thankful for Potter’s subpar grooming habits. He grabbed the owl’s cage and nearly skipped down the creaking stairs. Of course, he would deny this later, as Malfoys don’t _skip_.

Potter’s trunk was being packed into a car by the walrus. Where was _that_ when he was bored yesterday? He surely could have found something to amuse him in there. With a huff, Draco climbed into the muggle car for the ride to King’s Cross Station.

He found the journey to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters to be dreadfully tedious. As it was his first time getting there without the use of Side-Along Apparition, he figured it would be exciting and new. He was dead wrong. Muggle transport was not an experience he wanted to repeat. He amused himself by explaining magic to three very unwilling muggles. By the time they dropped him at the station, the walrus was purpling and the banshee could barely control her quivering lip. Their child--if that lump could be called such--had fainted in horror ten minutes in, and woke only when Draco slammed the door shut behind him.

Finally alone, Draco let his mind wander to Hogwarts. It had always been more of a home than the manor. Although he often missed his mother while away, he had friends to fill the void. His excitement doubled as he imagined sitting by the fire in the Slytherin common room, chatting with Pansy and Blaise over butterbeers. It was their annual tradition, and he could hardly wait to rant about Potter and share stories of their summers.

A screech from the train wheels brought him back to the present. The sound made him smile softly. He’d always loved the sound of the Hogwarts Express. He waded through the mass of returning students and nervous first years saying goodbye to their parents. The sight brought him back to his own first year. That was when he still believed his father was without flaw. Before the Dark Lord rose again. A time when Draco’s biggest concern was the green-eyed boy who refused his hand. When he could be proud of the Malfoy name.

A bob of black hair popped into existence in front of him. He poked the newly-Apparated girl in the back. Pansy turned with a scowl. “Watch it, Potter.”

His happiness drained. Oh. _Oh_. He was going to kill Potter--once he found out how to switch bodies, of course. He didn’t much care to damage his own flawless skin.

“Harry!” a female voice called out, far too cheerfully. Wonderful. The Mudblood. A spot of orange behind her warned of Weasley’s arrival as well.

“How was your summer, mate?”

Draco was thinking about telling the Weasel to sod off--maybe cause a little trouble in paradise--when his eyes locked on...well, his own. And everything went black.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Harry woke to the worried faces of his two best friends.

“Harry, what happened? Was it your scar?” Hermione asked, hands on his shoulders. He pulled out of her grasp, looking around for Malfoy so he could give him a piece of his mind, only to find he’d been moved to a train compartment.

“How did I get here?” Harry asked, pointedly avoiding Hermione’s question.

“Ron carried you,” Hermione said, blushing as she shot Ron a proud smile.

“Carried me?” Harry asked dumbly, thoughts still muddled.

“Don’t sound so surprised, mate. You’re scrawny.” Ron punched Harry’s arm lightly as he spoke and the dark haired boy let out a small laugh. Hermione sat back, apparently confident he wasn’t going to faint again.

“Did Voldemort--”

“No, Hermione, I’m fine. Just not feeling too well is all.”

The bushy-haired girl worried at the inside of her cheek but nodded. “Alright, just check in with Madame Pomfrey after dinner, okay?”

Harry nodded, his mind already wandering back to the person he was trying to avoid. His worst imaginings were all true. Malfoy was a Death Eater.

“Mate, sorry to leave you, but we’ve got to head over to the Prefect’s carriage.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be fine.” He knew how pleased Ron was to be a prefect, especially since he would share his duties with Hermione. The fact that his two best friends were prefects made him jealous at first, and he worried he’d become a third wheel, but he was happy for them now. Ron needed something of his own to be proud of, and Harry hoped it would give his friends a push in the right direction romantically.

Once they left, Harry was called into Slughorn’s compartment. He offered greetings to Ginny and Neville, and attempted to pay attention to his companions. Ginny shared her horror at the engagement of her brother to Fleur Delacour, and Neville talked about a wizarding museum he visited with his gran.

Harry chatted easily along with them, but his thoughts kept trailing back to a certain blond Slytherin. He would confront Malfoy about what he saw as soon at the feast ended. Letting his thoughts simmer down once he reached that decision, he tuned back into the conversation, feeling comfort at reuniting with his friends after so long. It was good to be back.

 

Harry was involved in a stare down with Malfoy all the way through the Sorting and Dumbledore’s opening speech. He barely heard the usual warnings and didn’t notice a single first year’s house. Even the delicious food couldn’t capture his attention. The two rivals locked eyes, fiery green on molten silver, and the Great Hall to crackled with electricity. Harry broke eye contact only once to pretend he was paying attention to his fellow Gryffindors. He smiled at all the right points in his one-sided conversation with Ginny and didn’t even feel bad about it, though he surely would later.

Malfoy stood and left the Hall a few minutes into the feast. Excusing himself under the guise of seeing Madame Pomfrey, he followed after the Slytherin. He didn’t even pause to notice Madame Pomfrey, still at the staff table enjoying the feast.

Just as the doors to the Great Hall shut behind him, Harry saw a shock of blond hair disappear into one of the classrooms. He knew he was expected to follow. His footsteps echoed loudly in the empty hallway. He ducked inside quickly. It was a Charms classroom. Once the door was locked with a quick spell, Harry whirled on Malfoy. The boy faced him in defiance, standing directly in the middle of the room. His hand twitched as if to reach for his wand.

“I was right about you,” Harry said, readying to make a grab for his own wand if necessary. “You’re just the Death Eater I always thought you were.” Malfoy froze. Harry took this as confirmation of his claim. “That’s right, Malfoy. I know your little secret. I saw everything. Voldemort. The Dark Mark, the--”

“What the hell are you talking about, Potter?”

“Don’t play dumb. I know everything.”

Malfoy’s eyes were wide with fear, probably scared Harry would give away his secrets. “Well, enlighten me because I have no fucking idea.”

Harry faltered in his taunts, unaware Malfoy’s features could show such pure terror. When his gaze darted towards the other boy’s forearm, the blond paled even further, looking almost translucent. He tore at his sleeve frantically. A choked gagging noise made Harry flinch. The Slytherin squeezed his eyes shut at the tattoo on his arm. He was shaking uncontrollably, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He didn’t wipe away the drop that ran down his chin.

Harry didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t exactly comfort his nemesis, but he’d never seen such vulnerability before, and he couldn’t just stand there and watch either.

“...Malfoy?”

The Slytherin exploded. Within milliseconds, Harry’s back was pressed against the wall, Malfoy pinning him to the stone. “What the hell, Potter! You took the fucking Mark?!?” Harry wanted to protest, but he was so confused and Malfoy was so very angry. “You know what I did when I was in your body? I talked to your fucking owl! And you bound me into servitude to the darkest wizard of all time? The _fuck_ , Potter!”

Harry finally regained some of his speech. “You would have done it anyways,” he said lamely.

“The hell I would! I was planning to run away when the stupid spell backfired and put me in your--”

“Spell?” Harry couldn’t hide his curiosity, and for a moment it distracted him from Malfoy’s anger.

The grey eyes froze over for a moment. “Nevermind.”

Harry, realizing that discussion was finished, returned to the previous topic. “But your father--”

“Fuck, Potter! I don’t give a damn about my father! I’m not him!” Malfoy’s eyes lost some of their fire and he loosened his hold on Harry. “I’m not my father,” he whispered. And then, he did something that scared Harry far more than his aggression did. Malfoy started sobbing, head buried in Harry’s shoulder as he let out all of his fear and pain and anger. Before Harry realized what he was doing, he was holding Draco in his arms, “shh” ing like Narcissa had done for him only a day earlier.

Harry’s mind raced, guilt at his fatal mistake tearing at his chest as he clung almost desperately to the shaking form of his rival. It didn’t freak him out nearly as much as he thought it would. Harry realized--as he should have the day before, if he’d only taken a moment to see it--that Draco was just a boy. A boy who was alone. A boy with a future planned out for him without his permission. A boy remarkably like Harry.

When Draco’s sobs stopped, neither one let go. It was like they were suspended in a moment out of time--holding onto each other because only they understood what it was like to never have a choice.

Draco’s breathing was less shaky now. He nuzzled into Harry’s neck and the dark haired boy tried to ignore the way it made his heart beat faster. He smelled faintly of vanilla, and Harry was drowning in it.

“I’m so sorry, Draco.”

The blond lifted his head after a moment and Harry almost wished he hadn’t said anything. His hair was ruffled at the crown of his head. Harry wanted to run his fingers through it, which was ridiculous if he thought about it, since he’d done so only that morning when he gelled and combed the blond locks. Even more than that, he wanted to hold the other boy in his arms again. He was really regretting speaking.

But then Draco gave a small smile, and Harry felt his knees go weak. He now understood Narcissa’s change yesterday. The way she melted before him. Those beautiful features were breathtaking when the boy smiled. They were mere inches apart. Blood trickled a dark path down his chin from when he bit his lip earlier, and the Gryffindor felt the strange urge to lick it off. If he simply leaned forwards... _Where had that come from?_

“Goodnight, Harry,” Draco said softly, before taking off into the castle. Harry let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, a single word on his mind as he walked toward Gryffindor Tower.

 _Beautiful_.


	2. Discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter 2! Hope you enjoy it :)

_ What the hell was that? _ Draco thought to himself as he made his way to the dungeons. One moment he was angry at the world--at Potter--and the next he was  _ nuzzling _ his rival.  _ I can’t be that desperate for affection, can I? _ Maybe Pansy was right, and he needed to start dating. He’d ask her for suggestions later.

Curse him for his stupid vulnerability. The Gryffindor would surely tell all his friends about Draco’s breakdown. It would be the talk of the school for weeks, and his reputation would be sorely damaged. The fact that it was his own fault only made things worse. Malfoys didn’t show weakness, especially not in front of their enemies.

As his thoughts visited the other development of the evening, his fingers went numb. Draco Malfoy was now a Death Eater. His worst nightmare come to life. And, of course, it was Potter’s fault.

He’d never tell anyone, but in a way Draco was glad Potter had taken the Mark for him. He no longer had to think about it or fear the inevitable. His last ditch effort may not have saved him from his fate, but at least he didn’t have to be there when it happened. Didn’t have to look into those red eyes as he swore away his life.

And if he admitted it to himself, he could forgive Ha--Potter. Had Draco been in his position, he wouldn’t have stopped it either. Hell, it looked to the world like Draco  _ wanted _ to be Marked--he certainly played the part. And oh, how much easier everything would be if he _ did _ want that life for himself. Too bad he had to be the first Malfoy in history to be born with a heart. Perhaps he inherited that dreadful organ from his mother. Draco admittedly did not have a solid understanding of Muggle science.

When he reached the portrait outside the Slytherin common room, he was unsure whether to be relieved or not. On one hand, the company of his friends would ease his misery. On the other, they were Slytherins, and would thus mock him mercilessly. He scowled at the stone wall and then kicked it for good measure before speaking the password. “Draconis.” 

He was attacked within seconds of entering.

“Draco, darling,” Pansy greeted, hugging him tightly. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. Generally, girls’ perfume disgusted him, but Pansy’s had always been different. Hers was something flowery, and it only reminded him how much he loved his best friend.

“Pans,” he breathed, unable to stop a grin from encompassing his features. Usually, he restrained his happiness to, _ at the very most _ , an amused smirk. Around Pansy, the mask fell away. He’d forgotten how affectionate his dark haired friend could be. Maybe he didn’t need to date for physical contact after all.

“Blaise smuggled in some firewhiskey.” She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively as they broke away.

“Upping our game, are we?”

“Butterbeer is for delicate fifth years. We are mature, responsible--”

“Alcohol-smuggling...”

“--sixth years, and we can handle something a bit stronger, don’t you think?”

“Whatever, Pans.” Draco peered around at the Slytherins. At this hour, it was mostly older students, with a few stray second and third years. “I suppose I’m in charge of clearing out the common room?”

Pansy winked in response. “Knock ‘em dead.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before stepping aside. Draco smirked and cleared his throat authoritatively.

“Everyone out. The common room is closed for the night.” Some of the seventh years looked ready to protest, but one glance at Draco had them scurrying after their peers. The blond replaced his smirk. He took great pride in his death glares. 

Secretly, he was relieved he still held power in the Slytherin house. The Malfoy name lost prestige in the wizarding world following his father’s incarceration. Part of him worried the same would happen in the snake pit. His fears slipped away like a tide rolling out, and he exhaled softly.

A tall black boy made his way downstairs against the current of reluctant students. Three bottles of firewhiskey were raised above his head in one hand. He didn’t bother to conceal them--none of the Slytherins would tell on their peers. While known for blackmail, the cunning and ambitious also knew not to make enemies. Especially not ones that slept within hexing distance. Draco’s House wasn’t what the others made it out to be. Sure, they were dishonest and immoral, and most of them were arses, but they stuck together. 

Draco inclined his head to Blaise in greeting. They plopped down on the couch, and Blaise slung an arm around the blond’s shoulders.

“Where’d you escape to earlier?” he asked.

“Run-in with Potter.” Draco took in the sight of the common room happily. During the year he often took it for granted, but coming back always reminded him just how much he loved it. The dark leather was worn and soft, curving beneath him like a caress. The fire burning in the hearth dispelled cool dungeon air, and the Black Lake cast an ethereal glow across his skin. It was good to be back.

Pansy threw herself on top of them, with her head in Draco’s lap. He ran his fingers absentmindedly through her short hair.

“Was it a fight or a make-out session?”

Draco’s hand stilled, and he flushed slightly. “What?”

She smirked up at him. “It’s not a hard question.”

Blaise leaned in. “Unless it has a very interesting answer...”

Draco was still in shock. “Why would you ask that?” Pansy and Blaise gave each other identical, knowing looks. “What?”

Blaise snorted. “Your hair’s a mess and your clothes are rumpled. So  _ something  _ happened.”

Pansy nodded in agreement, causing her hair to statically adhere itself to Draco’s robes. “Not to mention the fact that I could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife.” Draco flicked her in the head. She mock pouted as Blaise snickered.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear such foul suggestions,” Draco replied with his nose in the air.

“So it was a fight then?” Pansy sounded far too disappointed for his liking.

Deciding it best to get it out of the way sooner rather than later, he pulled up his sleeve. Blaise tightened his hold on the blond. Pansy gasped and went pale.

“Oh, Draco!” She twisted around to hug him, and they ended up in an awkward group embrace.

“So Potter saw it and flipped?” Blaise asked, a hint of bitterness in his tone. 

Unlike students from the other Houses, Slytherins understood the pressures of being in a pureblood family. And sometimes those pressures included servitude to the Dark Lord. Many grew up just like their parents, and getting Marked was their greatest dream. They were the lucky ones. It was far harder to go against what you were taught.

“Something like that.” Draco didn’t want to go into what happened, but he knew he’d feel better if he did, so he filled them in on the past two days.

“Merlin, I’m such an idiot!” he moaned at the end. Pansy  _ giggled  _ of all things.

“I don’t know, Draco. It sounds like Potter was all for it. Maybe next time you two could try our second option.” At Draco’s blush, his friends broke out into uncontrollable laughter. They made a few more distasteful suggestions through their tears.

“I do  _ not _ have a crush on Potter.” He sounded a little too much like he was trying to convince himself.  _ Hell, what’s the use? _ If he didn’t already have a sneaking suspicion before, the disastrous results of his spell proved it. That didn’t mean he had to admit it  _ out loud _ . Or in his head for that matter. Nope, denial was definitely the way to go. He was quite good at it.

“If you say so...” Pansy sang.

“I do.” Draco was nothing if not stubborn.  _ And undeniably gorgeous _ , he added with a smirk.

“Since you’re so available...” Draco didn’t think he liked where this was going. “I’m making it my mission to find you a date to the first Hogsmeade weekend.”

Blaise smirked evilly. “Oh, I’m in. But it might be time for the refreshments.” He opened a bottle of firewhiskey and took a swig. “This is going to be fun.”

Draco buried his head in Blaise’s shoulder. He wasn’t hiding. He was just...okay, maybe he was hiding. But there was a reason he didn't wear red and gold.

“I’ve heard Dean Thomas swings both ways,” Blaise murmured in his ear.

“Bloody Gryffindor...” the mortified blond mumbled. Sometimes he wished he hadn’t told them he was gay. Their attempts at finding him a boyfriend were far more insulting than girlfriends. The upside was that Pansy responded by increasing the PDA to dissuade interested girls and keep his sexuality a secret. Useful  _ and  _ entertaining. It was almost a game at this point--seeing how far they could take it. Draco drew the line when she gave him a feel under the table. “Key word is ‘public’” he had hissed. She simply smirked unabashedly.

The rest of the night was spent in much the same way. By the end, Draco had given into laughter instead of embarrassment. He even threw out a few suggestions of his own. When Pansy suggested Blaise, the two boys fell into a sloppy make-out session, and the girl nearly died of laughter.  They crashed on Draco’s bed around 4:30, earning them a shoe from a rather irritated Theodore Nott. Pansy chucked it back before burrowing between Blaise and Draco. The blond giggled with a small hiccup when she started snoring almost immediately. Needless to say, they skipped breakfast.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Harry was dragged to the library within seconds of entering Gryffindor Tower. Apparently, even the first day of school wasn’t too early to start studying for Hermione. Ron opted for staying in the common room with Dean and Seamus to play exploding snap. Harry was starting to regret his decision not to join them when Hermione put down her quill.

“Harry, what’s wrong? You’ve been acting odd since the train, and you disappeared during the opening feast.”

“I told you. I was seeing Madame Pomfrey.”  Hermione raised her brows. Harry sighed. He wasn’t ready to explain what happened--not yet. He wanted to puzzle through the past day's events on his own first. So he decided to ask the other question that had been bugging him. “Hermione, are there gay wizards?”

She snorted a little. “Of course there are.”

Harry tried to hide his reaction as he asked, “Is it, well...”

She smiled sadly. “It’s viewed much the same as in the muggle world. Some wizards think it’s no big deal, while others are very opposed to it. Gay marriage is legal in  _ all  _ of the wizarding world, however, which is a definite improvement over the patchy laws muggles have.”

Harry nodded. That was the best he could hope for. He was worried that with all the pureblood traditionalism, homosexuality would be highly taboo.

“Harry,” Hermione said softly, interrupting his musings. “Do you think you might be gay?”

The boy blushed and ran an agitated hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Hermione. Maybe?”

Hermione nodded, deep in thought. “I suspected as much.”

Harry sat straight up. “You knew? Since when?”

She laughed. “Harry, you described your first kiss as wet. I had adequate cause to wonder.”

Harry blushed again. “Right, er--thanks, Hermione.” She smiled and went back to her books. Harry meanwhile let his thoughts wander back to a certain blond Slytherin...

 

Draco wasn’t at breakfast. Neither were Parkinson or Zabini. Harry’s first thought was that they were up to something. Then he remembered Draco’s words from the night before:  _ I’m not my father _ . Somehow Harry didn’t think Draco Malfoy was the evil git he’d made him out to be.

Halfway through his toast, Harry realized he’d started thinking of the boy as Draco. Looking back, he remembered he’d even called him that to his face. Harry’s heart fluttered when he remembered that Draco had in turn called him Harry. He’d been so overwrought the night before that he hadn’t fully appreciated the way his name rolled off the Slytherin’s tongue. He spent longer than he cared to admit appreciating it now.

“Harry,” Ron started, pulling the dark-haired boy from his thoughts. “What do you think?”

Harry blinked. “About what?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Hermione said since Slughorn’s taking over Potions, we should sign up for it during our off period first hour. He only requires an Exceeds Expectations.”

“Oh. Sure.” Harry tried to convince himself he was simply interested in Potions, but he knew his decision had more to do with the fact that Draco would be there. He wanted to get a read on him after the events of the night before. And as crazy as it sounded, he was worried about the blond. He’d shown such vulnerability last night--it would be impossible not to care a little.

Harry noticed Hermione watching him out of the corner of his eye throughout breakfast.  _ Probably trying to figure out who I fancy, _ he thought with a smirk. His expression caught him off guard. He didn't use to smirk. It must have started when he was impersonating Draco. Harry spent the rest of breakfast shooting glances at every male in the Great Hall to throw Hermione off the scent. He might have enjoyed the ogling a bit. Just a bit.

Merlin, he was so gay.

 

Harry walked into a barrage of praise from a fanatic Professor Slughorn. By the time he was released, Hermione and Ron had already found a seat together and Ron had grabbed a Potions book. Harry took the final copy of the textbook, squishing his face up at the worn-down condition. All the seats were full when he walked back, except--he felt a thrill go through him--the one next to Draco. He plopped down beside the other boy and began arranging his materials.

“Morning, Malfoy,” Harry greeted neutrally.

“Potter.” Draco didn't make eye contact. Harry noted the bags under his eyes. He hoped he hadn't lost sleep over the Mark. The Gryffindor shifted uncomfortably at the thought.

Professor Slughorn clapped his hands once to get the class’ attention. “Good morning. Gather round, gather round. To start, can anyone identify the potion I have here? Give it a whiff.” Harry inhaled when the vial pointed in his direction. It smelled like broomstick polish, vanilla, and apples. Hermione’s hand shot into the air.

“Miss Granger?”

“It’s amortentia, sir. The most powerful love potion in the world, it smells different to everyone, based on what attracts them.”

Harry flushed and glanced at Draco. He was just as stoic as always.

“And this one,” Slughorn said, holding up a smaller vial. “Miss Granger?”

“Felix Felicius, or liquid luck...” When she finished explaining, Slughorn awarded Gryffindor twenty points and tasked them with making the draught of living death. The students walked back to their desks. Ron shot Harry a regretful look at being stuck with Malfoy. Harry did his best to match it.

Draco was already deep into his potion-making. Flipping to the correct page in his book, Harry was annoyed to find scribbling in the margins. Then he noticed they were corrections. He opened the front cover, interested in the previous owner.  _ Property of the Half-Blood Prince _ . Harry started his potion, curiosity fueling him to follow the corrected instructions instead of the given ones. What could it hurt? His potion-making couldn't get any worse.

As his cauldron bubbled toward success, he took no small amount of joy in seeing Hermione’s shock. Her cauldron was fizzing out of control, and her hair followed its lead. The rest of the class was faring much the same. Only Ron looked unfazed, as his cauldron looked just as terrible as ever.

Draco didn’t glance up once the entire time, much to Harry’s disappointment. He wanted to shove his success in the Slytherin’s face. Even if he didn’t  _ hate _ him anymore, their old rivalry was almost habitual. Draco’s potion wasn’t as successful as Harry’s, but it was better than the rest of their classmates. Harry was intrigued. He had always accounted Draco’s success in Potions to Snape’s house biases, but the boy was actually quite skilled.

When their potions were left to simmer for ten minutes, as per the final step, Harry looked pointedly at his table partner.

“We need to talk.”

Draco didn't look up. “I beg to differ.”

“Draco--” The blond froze. “Fine, Malfoy. This isn't about me.” When Harry’s eyes darted towards his forearm, he knew Draco saw.

“When?” the blond finally ground out, teeth clenched. He’d never seen the boy so tense. Perhaps he was still angry with Harry after last night. Maybe their moment didn’t mean as much to him as it did to Harry. Maybe--

What was he saying? Of course Draco was angry. Harry practically signed him up for slavery. If Draco didn’t hate him before, he surely did now.

Harry considered the question. “Well, I don't want Ron and Hermione to get suspicious...” He frowned. It would be tough. They monitored his behavior more closely since Sirius’ death--like they were afraid he’d succumb to self-harm or something. Maybe if he used the Cloak...

Draco elbowed his cauldron, and it spilled all over the floor. “Potter!”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, Malfoy? That was clearly your fault!” Harry couldn't believe him. _ What a Slytherin _ .

“Like hell it was!”

Slughorn walked over, frowning. “Twenty points from Gryffindor--” Harry started to protest but shut his mouth when he remembered Dumbledore’s instructions. He was to let the Professor ‘collect’ him. “And detention for you both at 8 o’clock in my office.” He shot Harry an apologetic look, and the Gryffindor knew he was still in the man’s good graces.  

When Slughorn walked away, Harry glared at Draco, who scowled in response. “I did that for you, prat. You wanted somewhere to talk.”

It did make sense.

“Well Slytherin didn't lose any house points,” Harry muttered.

He could have sworn the blond smiled.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Draco walked to detention with a scowl on his face. He was having a rotten day. After waking up groggy and exhausted, Draco had to deal with Blaise and Pansy’s attempt to set him up with Potter. They strategically sat together so Draco would be forced to sit with the Golden Boy. In response, Draco had ignored the Gryffindor as best he could and immersed himself in his potion.

He spent the period trying to convince himself the amortentia hadn’t smelled like Ha--Potter. It was going quite well until the other boy had the nerve to turn towards him. Draco refused to look up as the scent hit him. It was fresh grass and broomstick polish and muggle laundry detergent (Draco remembered from his stay with Potter’s relatives) and so very  _ Harry _ . Er, Potter. And then the Boy Who Lived had  _ talked _ to him. As if it wasn’t clear Draco was ignoring him. The class had finished up spectacularly with Draco being forced to spill his cauldron and forfeit the contest, only to watch Potter win the vial of Felix Felicius. Ridiculous.

Later, he heard from Blaise that invitations to join the Slug Club were already out. Pansy joined Draco in the pouting that followed. Blaise earned a Jelly-Legs Jinx from the irritated pair when he had the audacity to smirk at them. He smirked significantly less after that, but it didn’t make Draco feel any better.

Overall, a rotten day. And detention with Potter certainly wouldn't improve his mood.

The Gryffindor was already in Slughorn’s office when Draco arrived. He was staring in a way that made the blond want to fidget, but he refrained. Malfoys never fidget. Slughorn assigned them the task of dusting off his ‘collection’--photographs of his favorite students from years past. Once he’d given them their assignment, he took off to gather potion ingredients from Professor Sprout.

The two students worked in silence for a few minutes. Then Potter put down the picture frame he was working on.

“Voldemort--” Draco flinched. “--ordered you to kill Dumbledore.” Green eyes sought out silver ones and succeeded for the first time all day. Draco’s heart raced. 

If he were tasked with a mission as important as murdering the Headmaster, the Dark Lord would kill him if he failed. But he knew he couldn’t do it. He might think the old man off his rocker, but he didn’t hate him. He didn’t hate anyone that much, except maybe the Dark Lord himself. Draco tried to mask his emotions, but the sympathy in Potter’s eyes told him he had failed. That didn’t stop him from trying.

“Well, since I don’t plan on killing the old coot, what do you suggest?” When Potter’s mouth hung agape, Draco raised a brow. “You thought I would go through with it?”

Potter closed his mouth. “Well, no, but I thought I’d have to do some convincing or something.”

Draco nodded. “I never wanted to be part of any of this. My father--” Draco broke off, realizing he was crossing into unknown territory with the Gryffindor across from him. 

"Tell me." Potter's eyes were trained on him with startling depth. They tore into Draco's mind, breaking down his walls as if with Legilimency. He took a deep breath. The other boy knew enough that a bit more wouldn’t matter.

“My father raised me to be like him. He wanted a Death Eater, not a son. But I could never be that. When I told him I didn’t want to follow the Dark Lord, he wouldn’t hear of it. He started to train me with even more determination than before and became less and less the father I knew him to be. The more time I spent in the Dark Lord’s presence, the more certain I was that I could never follow someone like him. Someone who demanded fear and undying loyalty from his followers only to treat them like dirt. I wouldn’t be someone’s servant,” Draco spat bitterly. 

Harry gave him a measured look. “I always figured it’d be right up your alley. Killing Muggleborns and acting like you’re better than everyone else because of your name.”

Draco shrugged. “I won’t pretend not to have prejudices. I was raised with them. But I’m not a murderer.” He smirked. “And Malfoys  _ are _ better than everybody. I don’t need to sacrifice my freedom to prove that.” When Potter glared, the smirk intensified.

The Gryffindor wordlessly went back to dusting his photograph. Without looking up, he said,“I think we should tell someone. Dumbledore, or--”

“Severus.”

Potter looked at Draco like he’d grown horns. “On a first name basis, are you?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “He’s my godfather.” Technically, that wasn’t true. Severus and Draco’s parents weren’t close enough to name him as such. Draco had adopted the term with permission from the Potions Master when they grew close after fourth year. Severus was the only one he could talk to about his father and the Dark Lord. The man had taken Draco in like a son, and it felt right to label themselves as such. It was an easy explanation to give to the other Slytherins when they got curious about the close relationship, and Draco often forgot it was false.

Potter’s eyes widened, with both interest and...perhaps a hint of sadness? “He’s a git.”

Draco smirked. “So am I. That’s why we get along so well.” It was true. Draco knew the man had made mistakes. He was a Death Eater, and an arse, and the world’s greatest grudge holder. But that was why Draco liked him. He showed that people could make mistakes and still be good deep down. Or maybe he wasn’t good. That was okay too. He didn’t have to be good. He just had to be able to live with himself.

Harry nodded, appearing deep in thought. “Okay, Dumbledore first, then Snape. Though, perhaps you should talk to him alone. In case you haven’t noticed, he doesn’t like me much.” Draco snorted. Harry grinned--Aargh! _ Potter _ .

“Of course he doesn’t. You’re positively inept in his class.”

It was Potter’s turn to smirk. “Actually, I’m excellent at his class.” Draco kept forgetting Severus had taken up the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. It somehow felt wrong to him and thus kept slipping his mind. “And, if you remember correctly, my potions skills have dramatically improved.”

Draco stuck his nose in the air. “And if _ you _ remember correctly, my potion was purposefully botched to get us in here. I would never lose in a fair competition against the likes of you, Potter.”

The Gryffindor smiled a very Slytherin smile. “That sounds like a challenge, Malfoy.”

Malfoy lifted a brow. “Scared, Potter?”

“You wish.”

They both cracked up a little at that, before picking up their task again in silence. After a while, he noticed Potter had stopped dusting again. The boy was staring at one of the photos with a mixture of emotions.

“Potter? What is it?”

The Gryffindor smiled distantly as if he'd forgotten to whom he was talking. “My mother. Apparently, she was a student of Slughorn’s.” Draco shifted closer so he could see. The dark-haired boy pointed to an attractive redhead with a beautiful smile. She had his eyes. “I wish I could have known her, you know? Mrs. Weasley took me under her wing, but it’s not the personal relationship I imagine having with my mum. The only time I ever--” He broke off, glancing at Draco with a funny smile. “The only time I ever felt that way was with your mother.”

Draco’s eyes widened. Narcissa Malfoy was the strongest woman he’d ever known. She stood up to his father, even when it meant he’d yell at her for hours. She refused to become a Death Eater, despite both her husband and her sister taking the Mark. And she loved him, so much it hurt sometimes--when he could see the pain in her eyes at the fate she couldn’t control.

He didn’t respond, uncomfortable with the familiarity with which Potter spoke to him. They were  _ rivals, _ for Merlin’s sake. They didn’t talk about their mothers together. It was utterly ridiculous. How could the Potter not see that? Draco straightened and began dusting once more, determined not to speak to the Golden Boy for the rest of detention.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

When Slughorn came back, he found the two working silently. “That’s all for today, boys. I expect you’ll be more careful next time, yes? And please refrain from yelling in my class, if you will.” They nodded their agreement and left.

As it was nearing curfew, the hallways were empty. Harry found himself smiling in spite of the grave situation they were soon to discuss. He and Draco had talked--a real conversation!--without fighting. At least not really. He tried to convince himself he was just pleased to be making amends. He tried _. _

“Do you know the password?” Draco asked. Harry shook his head.

“It’ll be some type of sweet. Want to start guessing?” The password ended up being Bertie Botts. Harry and Draco made their way up the winding stairs discussing their opinions on the different flavors. Harry was amused to find they both liked green apple the best, though Draco insisted his palate was far more refined.

“Come in,” Dumbledore said from behind his office doors. The boys fell silent as they entered. “Sit, sit. Lemon drop?” Both shook their heads. Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “What can I do for you, boys?”

Harry sat forwards. “Sir, it’s about Voldemort. He's planning to kill you.” He continued to tell the story, starting from the body switch. Draco stayed silent. Dumbledore looked knowingly at the Slytherin when Harry mentioned the miscast spell, but didn’t comment. When the summary ended, Dumbledore steepled his fingers.

“And you are certain you don’t wish to go through with this task, Mister Malfoy?”

Draco looked stunned at the question. “Yes, sir.” Dumbledore nodded.

“Then it seems I will have to look into your options. Try not to worry too much for now. I’ll send word when I’ve found a solution. Thank you for telling me. You are dismissed.”

 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked once they were outside. “You were quiet back there.”

Draco nodded, straightening his shoulders. “I’m fine.”

When they reached the spot where they would split up for the night, Harry stopped, biting his lip anxiously. “Draco, since we’re working together, we shouldn’t exactly be...enemies anymore, so I was wondering...” He trailed off, unsure how to say it in a way the other boy wouldn’t object to. “Can we call a truce? We’ll still have to be rivals in public, and we won’t be friends or anything, but--”

“Yes, alright, just stop your idiotic rambling,” Draco interrupted.

Harry sighed in relief and held out his hand. Draco paused, looking at it and then at Harry. The dark-haired boy nodded. He knew Draco was wondering if he realized the significance of that extended hand. The rejected handshake that started it all. Draco took it.

“Goodnight, Draco.”

“Goodnight, Potter.” Harry could see the silent  _ ‘Not on your life’ _ in his glare. Apparently, first names were off-limits for the time being. Harry figured that made sense, even if part of him wished he had taken his truce a bit further and requested friendship. Somehow, he knew he’d be turned down.

They went their separate ways, and Harry couldn’t wipe the small smile off his face. His hand tingled where it had made contact with Draco’s. He tried to convince himself that was normal. Of course it was.

He was still smiling when he entered the Gryffindor common room. Ron and Hermione were arguing about something from their place beside the fire. They both broke out into grins when they saw him. He sat in the chair across from them with a happy sigh. Hermione raised a brow, a calculating look on her face. Ron didn’t notice.

“What took so long?” he asked. “We were about to come looking for you.”

“Dumbledore wanted to see me about Slughorn,” Harry said easily. He felt a pang of guilt at lying to his friends, but he pushed such thoughts away.

“How was detention with Malfoy?”

Harry shrugged vaguely. “We didn’t talk much. Slughorn had us dusting off his photograph collection.” Wanting to change the subject, he asked, “Did either of you get an invite to the Slug Club?”

Hermione grinned. “Oh, yes! Ronald’s upset that Ginny got in and he didn’t.” Ron scowled. When Harry laughed, the redhead brightened considerably, and soon, the three were immersed in conversation about everything and nothing. They were the last ones to bed that night.


	3. Room of Requirement

Draco knocked on the door to Severus’ personal quarters. There was some noise from inside and then the door opened to reveal a scowling Professor Snape. He wore a moth-eaten set of cotton pajamas and an old pair of slippers, which would have shocked most students but didn’t faze Draco in the slightest. It wasn’t the first time he visited his self-appointed godfather after curfew. Sometimes it was the only thing that could stop the nightmares.

When Severus registered who was in the doorway, his scowl fell away. “Draco. What is it?”

“I need to talk to you.”

The man stepped out of the way for the boy to gain entrance. The room was cozier than one would expect, with mismatched furniture in faded reds and browns--almost Gryffindor colors. Draco collapsed in an armchair by the fire as the man left to put on a pot of tea, sighing happily. He missed this place over the summer. He always preferred Severus’ quarters to the Malfoy Manor, and sometimes even to the Slytherin common room. Draco’s eyes closed when Snape re-entered.

“I’m supposed to kill Dumbledore,” he said simply as he took his tea. Chamomile.

“I know.”

“What?” It took everything he had not to spew the drink. Malfoys didn’t spew, even in front of pajama-clad potions masters. Snape smiled in grim amusement.

“Your mother made me take the Unbreakable Vow. I swore to assist you in your task in any way I could and complete it if you fail.”

“What?” Draco repeated, still in shock. He recovered after a sip of tea. “But we told Dumbledore and--”

“We?”

“Potter and I.” Severus narrowed his eyes but didn’t address it. He knew Draco would explain if he wanted to. That was one of the things the boy liked about the professor. He didn’t pry. Snape chewed on the inside of his cheek in thought.

“The Headmaster was already aware of your mission.”

Draco’s brows furrowed. His mother often warned him against wrinkles, but the lesson still hadn’t sunk in. “He looked surprised when we told him.”

“And he was. Though he knew of your predicament, he did not believe you would come to him about it. Despite my reassurances, he was confident you would feel forced into fulfilling your duty. I must say,” Severus paused, eyeing Draco carefully, “I was uncertain myself. The Dark Lord can be very...persuasive.”

“You mean by threatening my life. Threatening my parents’ lives,” Draco stated with a resentful note in his voice. He picked sullenly at a loose thread in the cushion. He felt like he was unraveling, and related to the couch on a personal level. Then he wondered if he was quite in the right mind. It would only add to the accuracy of the metaphor if he weren't.

So quietly he wasn’t sure he’d spoken aloud, he said, “Dumbledore was almost right.”

And it was true. No matter how much Draco hated to admit it, if it hadn’t been for Potter, he would have done his best to complete the task, in spite of his morals. By taking the Mark and facing the Dark Lord in the place of Draco, Potter had distanced him from the situation. Draco didn’t feel nearly as much fear as he would have if he had been there when it happened. As he would have if he was alone in all this. Just knowing someone else knew made him feel less afraid, less desperate, less broken. Even if that someone else was Potter.

He’d never admit it, but the Gryffindor had saved him.

Severus set his tea down with a slight clatter. Draco did the same, studying a small chip in the cup before looking intently into the man’s eyes. “Sev, you realize one of us has to kill him.”

Draco could do it and complete his mission or Snape could, because of the vow, but either way, it would be done.

“The Headmaster is dying. He has perhaps a year left and suggested one of us do the honors and end his life. When a plan becomes finalized, I will inform you.”

Draco nodded, curious at what ailment plagued the old wizard. He didn’t question further, however. It was one of the things Severus liked about him. He didn’t pry.

 

_Meet me outside Slytherin after curfew. -H_

Draco read the note cupped in his hand to avoid wandering eyes. As mail generally came over breakfast and not dinner, the Slytherins were extremely interested. Crabbe and Goyle looked vaguely intrigued, but their dinner rolls quickly captured their attention. Theo and Daphne were whispering about the possible contents, and Tracey Davis leaned in almost imperceptibly. Only Millicent Bulstrode looked indifferent, though that was hardly surprising. She was arguably more stoic than Draco himself, though he’d hex anyone who said so.

Pansy was practically in Draco’s lap--not an oddity in itself, but more noticeable in the current situation--and her squeal told him he had failed at secrecy. She cast a quick silencing charm around them and turned towards him excitedly. Blaise looked put out at being excluded but went back to his dinner without a word. The dark-haired girl didn’t notice the glare he sent her way.

“Did you just get asked out by Harry Potter?”

Draco nearly had to squint at her blinding smile. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. He probably heard word from Dumbledore about a plan or something.”

Pansy scooted impossibly closer. “And he had to tell you in _privacy_ ? After _curfew_?”

“As a matter of fact, he did. I don’t plan on showing off my shiny new tattoo to all his Gryffindor friends. I don’t have a death wish.”

Pansy pouted but removed the silencing charm. The weight of her head on his shoulder let him know she wasn’t really upset. With Pansy dealt with, however, he let his mind wander to what Potter would want.

If Dumbledore had news, it would have come from the Headmaster himself. It seemed like they should have heard word by now, but none had come. Maybe he was wrong, and the man had asked Potter to pass along the information. Draco wouldn’t be surprised--it was well known amongst the Slytherins that they weren’t Dumbledore’s priority. Still, that didn’t seem right.

Draco snorted as he crossed Pansy’s suggestion off his mental list. How ridiculous. Potter didn’t even _like_ him, let alone want to go out him. He probably wasn’t even gay. The Golden Boy no doubt walked the straight and narrow. He’d end up marrying the Weaslette or some other Gryffindor girl and have lots of little scar heads in a quaint little cottage. Draco tried to convince himself he didn’t feel his stomach twist at the thought. Denial was becoming his favorite skill.

He jotted back a note and sent it off with the owl perched on the table, pecking at a chicken leg. Cannibalistic bird. The display ruined his appetite, so he settled for a small roll, focusing on his manners more than usual to distract him from his curiosity. The food was gone sooner than he would have liked. He sighed. Nothing left to do but watch the clock.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

_Dungeons at 10. Don’t be late. -D_

Harry almost laughed aloud at Hermione’s not-so-subtle attempt to read the note. She probably thought it was from a secret lover. Harry flushed at the thought and tucked away the note. Even if he was gay, he certainly didn’t like _Malfoy_. Of course not. It didn’t matter that the Slytherin was gorgeous and funny and...Harry didn’t like where that thought was going.

“Who’s it from, Harry?” Hermione asked, trying (unsuccessfully) to hide her curiosity.

“Dumbledore,” he said easily, pointing at the D. He knew she didn’t believe him but didn’t feel like dealing with her right now. He had other things on his mind. Important things. Blond, Slytherin things.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Draco was one of the last to enter the common room before curfew. He came into Pansy and Blaise snogging on the couch by the fire.

“Are you two back together then?” Draco drawled, seating himself on the couch across from them. They had been dating on and off since before Hogwarts. Draco didn’t even pretend to understand their relationship.

The two broke away, clearly disheveled. “We got bored,” Pansy said, shrugging as if that was the only explanation. Perhaps it was. She burrowed into Blaise’s side with a contented sigh. The boy ran a lazy hand through her hair, smiling affectionately at her. “Blaise,” Pansy started, drawing out the name dramatically, “has a thing for Finnegan.”

Draco raised a brow. “Gryffindor, huh?”

Blaise smirked. “That makes two of us.” Draco threw a pillow at him. It hit Pansy. “And that, dear friend, is why I’m the Chaser,” Blaise said. Pansy groaned. She hated it when they talked about Quidditch. Unless it was the day of a match-- _then_ she was just as interested as the rest of them, though probably more for the firewhiskey they smuggled in than for the game.

“That _is_ what it’s about for you, isn’t it Blaisy-poo? The chase?” Draco grinned evilly, using the mocking nickname the other boy hated. Pansy made them up to get on their nerves ages ago, and they only used them at their most immature.

Blaise kept his cool and waved off the insult with a hand. “That’s far less insulting coming from someone as inexperienced as yourself, _Drakie_.” They all cracked up at that. Blaise sobered first, rubbing the back of his head. “And it’s not about the chase this time.”

His friends stared at him for a moment, feeling the weight of his words. Pansy hugged Blaise tightly, before turning to the blond.

“Draco darling, aren’t you going to freshen up for your date with Potter?” Pansy wiggled her eyebrows. Draco hated it when she did that.

Blaise perked up. “What’s this?”

“Not a date,” Draco muttered.

“Even so, there’s no reason not to look your best, now is there?” Pansy was already out of the chair--leaving Blaise whining about needing details--and pulling Draco up the stairs. “I’m thinking muggle clothes. Form-fitting, and kind of edgy...” The blond momentarily let himself forget just who would be waiting for him outside the common room and lost himself in his wardrobe.

An hour later, Draco and Pansy came down to a half-asleep Blaise reading something for History of Magic.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Pansy trilled.

“I’m always gorgeous.” Draco was wearing tight black jeans and a grey t-shirt the color of his eyes, a dark flannel pulled on over the top. Casual, but flattering.

“The boy’s right,” Blaise appraised. “If Potter doesn’t swoon, he needs his bloody glasses fixed.”

Blaise’s words brought Draco back to the current situation. He groaned. “I forgot about Potter. Why can’t a guy enjoy looking fashionable in peace?”

Blaise shook his head sadly at Pansy. “How did we ever think he was straight?”

“My fashion does not dictate my sexuality. It simply shows good taste.”

“One could argue those are one in the same,” Blaise remarked. Pansy gave him an indignant look on behalf of her gender, but the spark in her eyes gave away her amusement.

Checking the time, Draco noticed it was nearly ten. He kissed Pansy goodbye and nodded his head at Blaise.

“Good luck on your date!”

“Not a date!”

“ _Right..._ You’re sneaking out after curfew, sexily dressed, to meet your crush for some other reason.”

“Pansy! Potter is not my crush!”

“Sound a little less convincing, will you?”

“Blaise! Not. Helping.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Git.”

“Prat.”

Draco exited the portrait hole almost excitedly, curious at to what Potter might want. And he had to admit, Muggles knew what they were doing when it came to style. If nothing else went his way that evening, Draco would be alright, because he looked _good._ And really, what more could you ask for in life?

 

A chill went through him as he waited for Harry in the shadows. The dungeons were ridiculously cold at night, which Draco usually didn’t mind since he was _in bed_ . He was rethinking this entire plan. Part of him wondered if the truce was just a ploy to get him in trouble for being out of bed after curfew. Then he decided that no, Harry wouldn’t do that. _Bloody Gryffindor_. If he was wrong, he could say he was visiting Severus. The professor would cover for him.

Just as this thought was going through his head, he was jerked under some sort of cloth by an invisible hand. He found himself staring into green eyes.

“What the fu--”

“Invisibility Cloak. Come on. There’s something I need to tell you.” Draco tried to ignore the other boy’s hands on his shoulders. The way their breath mingled between them like they were seconds from sharing a kiss...Draco pulled his thoughts away when he felt his blood shoot downwards. _Oh, hell. This cannot be happening to me. I cannot have a crush on Harry bloody Potter_.

“Get on with it then.” His voice was tighter than he’d like. Harry only nodded and began to walk.

Their journey was slow going and awkward, but when they passed Filch, Draco was glad for the Cloak. Draco couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary when they finally stopped. Just a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, who appeared to be trying to teach ballet to a group of trolls. Waste of time, in Draco’s opinion. Trolls weren’t graceful enough for the subtle art. Harry slipped out from under the Cloak and began pacing.

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” He was shushed off-handedly. Seconds later, a door appeared in the wall. Harry beckoned him inside.

‘Inside’ turned out to be a disorganized library, with books stacked in towers along the walls and mismatched shelves. Draco turned to Potter to show his annoyance, only to remember he was invisible. He yanked off the Cloak.

“This explains a lot,” Draco remarked as he handed it back to its owner. “I always wondered how you and your friends got around so easily. Where are we anyways?”

“Remember the Inquisitorial Squad last year?” Draco nodded. He’d joined that ridiculous organization to get at Potter. The memory of Umbridge’s toad-like face still made him cringe. “This is where you busted us. It’s called the Room of Requirement. It becomes whatever you need.”

Draco raised a brow. “And you needed a library...why?”

Harry was walking around, searching the stacks. He stopped after a moment, looking pleased. “These are all books on transportation and wards. Portkeys, Apparition, Floo.”

“That’s wonderful, Potter. What does this have to do with me?”

Harry turned to him. “I accidentally left out part of your task when we talked at detention. I got caught up with Dumbledore, and then the picture of my mother, and...anyways, there was a second part. You have to find a way to let a group of Death Eaters into Hogwarts without alerting the wards.”

“To what end?”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Well, that’s where I started to get lost. If I were myself, I would have demanded answers, but I figured you would have more decorum than that.” Draco was surprised Harry knew him so well, and strangely pleased at the unintentional compliment. “It’s my understanding that they want Dumbledore’s death to coincide with an attack on the school.”

Draco’s eyes widened. If the Death Eaters got into the school...He didn’t want to think about the amount of damage they could do. “So what are we doing then?”

Harry looked up from his searching. “Well, I figured we’d sort through these books to find a way to let them in.”

Draco blinked. “What?”

The dark-haired boy went back to his searching with a shrug. “We might as well. It can’t hurt to find a way in, and there aren’t any classes tomorrow. We could search all night if we wanted. There’s nothing else to do but wait for word from Dumbledore, and _I_ for one can’t stand to wait around for others to figure things out.”

Draco had to agree with him, but there was still one thing off. “Letting in the Death Eaters would only serve to assist in Dumbledore’s death. Why would you want to do that?”

An array of emotions warred in those emerald green eyes. “Did you notice Dumbledore’s hand?”

“No. Why?”

“It’s blackened and gnarled. He told me it was because he destroyed something of Voldemort’s. I think it’s killing him, and if I’m not mistaken, he’ll ask you to do it to gain Voldemort’s trust.”

Draco sighed. “Severus said as much.” He filled Harry in on the details.

The other boy cursed softly. “I hoped I was wrong.” Harry looked so lost. Draco felt the strange urge to comfort him. He refrained. Potter wouldn’t appreciate it, and Draco would never live it down.

“So what are we looking for exactly?”

“Anything that looks like it won’t set off the school’s wards and will let in around ten people.”

“Got it.” They began looking, opting not to split up to keep from getting separated in the seemingly endless shelves. They searched in a comfortable silence. Draco reveled in how well they worked together, almost as if they shared the same consciousness--never bumping into each other or disagreeing on which way to go next. Draco wondered if it was a side effect of the spell from a few days earlier. When they finally amassed a pile of promising texts, he was almost sad to go.

“Any idea how long we’ve been up here?”

Draco realized he didn’t and said as much.

Nodding, Harry said, “We should probably get back then. Now that we’ve found some potential solutions, we can start looking through them. Maybe we could meet up every Friday night?”

“Wouldn’t it be faster to take them with us and read them in our spare time?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m not sure what will happen if we take things out of the room, and I don’t want to risk it. Also, we can’t let anyone know what we’re reading. People might get suspicious.”

Draco ignored the strange fluttering in his chest and agreed. He was surprised Harry would offer to spend that much time with him, but reminded himself it was just his hero complex, or perhaps his guilt. Either way, Draco couldn’t help the smile that forced its way onto his lips as he slipped out from under the Cloak. He felt Harry’s eyes on his backside and mentally thanked Pansy for her fashion assistance. Even if Harry wasn’t gay, Draco was certain anyone could appreciate a tight pair of jeans. _Since when do I care what Harry thinks?_ Draco asked himself in disgust. _And when did he become Harry?_

Draco Malfoy was royally screwed.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Harry and Draco shut their books in unison. Over a month had passed since they first started looking and they still hadn’t made much progress. The first few sessions were spent reading through the original books they grabbed. Now they were starting on a new batch. Harry was beginning to wonder if anything could get past the Hogwarts wards.

Dumbledore had been strangely silent and shared no news with the boys. Harry was called into the Headmaster’s office only once, and it was to see a memory of Tom Riddle in the Pensieve. Looking through the library was all Harry could do not to march up to the man and demand information.

Fridays were quickly becoming his favorite days. Though he loved his friends, it was nice to escape every once in awhile to spend time with someone who wasn't worried about his well-being. And Draco proved to be good company. They had fallen into a rhythm together, and though they still called each other by their last names, Draco didn’t spit ‘Potter’ as venomously as before. They even kept up easy conversation sometimes, usually about Quidditch or Muggle things. Draco was surprisingly interested in Muggle technology. That struck Harry as humorous.

Now and then their discussions would become heated--Draco would use the ‘m’ word or Harry would make a snide comment about Lucius--but for the most part, they got along well. The fact that the Invisibility Cloak was too small to walk without physical contact was becoming something Harry was quite fond of. He didn’t let himself think about the implications of that for too long.

“I’m starving.” Draco was doing his best pouting face. His brows pinched, and his lips puckered slightly. The expression made his pointy features look softer. More childlike. It was oddly adorable. “How late do you think it is?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe a little after midnight?” His stomach growled.

Draco sighed, apparently resigned to sleeping on an empty stomach. “I’ll raid Pansy’s stash of chocolate when I get back to the common room.” Without even realizing he was doing it, Harry mentally cataloged Draco’s liking of chocolate. It was a habit he’d picked up from spying on the Slytherin, and he never really quit.

“We could always stop by the kitchens.”

Draco’s head snapped up. “You know where they are?”

Harry grinned. “Sure. You just have to fondle some fruit.” At Draco’s quirked brow, Harry laughed and threw the Cloak over the two of them. “Come on. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Draco squirmed at that. “I’m not meeting anyone in your company, Potter.”

Harry snorted. “I think you’ll find this someone to be quite different.” Draco grumbled but didn’t try to escape as Harry led the way.

When they reached the painting of fruit, Harry slipped his hand out from under the Cloak and tickled the pear.

Draco’s eyes widened. “You weren’t kidding.” He looked so vulnerable and innocent in his awe. Harry was enthralled and couldn’t resist grabbing the boy’s pale hand when the portrait swung open. His fingers were long and thin, like a violinist’s. Harry wondered if he played.

“Come on.”

In his amazement, Draco didn’t even let go. Harry felt warm all over.

They walked into a room the size of the Great Hall, bustling with house-elves. Pots and pans clanged over the sound of running water. It seemed cruel to make them work so late into the night, and Harry found himself contemplating S.P.E.W. There were still articles of clothing strewn about from Hermione’s last delivery. He knew, however, that Dumbledore wouldn't make them overwork themselves, and that they did this of their own free will.

“This is incredible,” Draco exclaimed. He looked at Harry in mock suspicion. “What other secrets are the Gryffindors hiding?”

Harry laughed. The sound was brighter around Draco--less like he was trying to convince others of his amusement, and more like a side effect of it. More natural. “Not the Gryffindors. Just Ron, Hermione, and me.”

“Maybe I should start hanging out with the Golden Trio then.”

Harry wrinkled his nose at the nickname but didn’t comment. An even-smaller-than-usual house-elf popped up in front of them.

“What is sirs wanting?”

“Is Dobby here? Tell him Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are here to see him.” The elf scurried away.

“Dobby?” Draco asked. “My old house-elf?”

Harry smirked. “Did you know I freed him in second year?”

“ _You_ did that?” Draco laughed aloud. “My father was fuming for weeks!”

Harry couldn’t control the giggle that escaped at the other boy’s reaction. He wondered at Draco’s relationship with his father. Before, Harry had believed they were close, but with recent events...He’d have to ask about it once they were closer. It was shocking to realize how much he wanted their truce to move towards friendship.

At that moment, Dobby appeared before them, eyes wider than seemingly possible. A sock hung off one oversized ear. “Harry Potter and Master Draco have come to visit Dobby?”

Harry grinned at the elf. “Yep.” Dobby attacked them both with hugs and happy tears. “We also wouldn’t mind some dessert while we’re here. The usual for me and apple tart for Draco,” he said once the elf calmed down some. He realized his slip when Draco gave him a look.

“Why do you know my favorite dessert?”

 _Oh._ It wasn’t about using his first name. Harry considered the question. Now that he thought about it, he knew a lot about Draco Malfoy. From all the years spent spying on him, he almost knew him better than his friends. Of course, he’d been blind to a majority of what made him _Draco_ . His spying only led to an understanding of the surface. The mask. _Malfoy._

“Know thy enemy and all, I guess.” Harry shrugged. Then, getting an idea, he added, “Also, it’s my favorite too.”

“No, you like treacle tart.” At Harry’s grin, Draco slapped a hand over his mouth. The blond realized then that their other hands were still entwined and pulled away like he’d been burned. He turned his attention to the four banquet tables that matched the ones above them.

“Just so you know, I refuse to sit at the Gryffindor table.” Draco’s nose was stuck in the air stubbornly. Harry chuckled.

“I thought you might say that.” He moved to sit at the Slytherin table without another word. Draco gaped at him.

“What, no protest? No ‘Slytherins are evil, muggle-hating scum’?”

Harry snorted. “That would be hypocritical.”

Draco moved to sit across from him. “What do you mean?”

Dobby scurried over with their desserts and two glasses of pumpkin juice. Harry thanked him and took a long sip from his drink, fully aware Draco’s curiosity was driving him mad.

“The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin,” Harry said after setting his glass down.

“Really?” Draco asked, mouth agape. He shut it quickly.

“It’s true.”

"Potter, I’m impressed. I didn’t know you had it in you.” Then he snorted. “The Golden Boy in Slytherin. That would have been a sight.”

Harry grinned, picturing the stunned faces at the Sorting if the Boy Who Lived ended up in the evil House. That image alone almost made him regret his decision.

“How come you didn’t end up in there then?”

“I asked not to.”

Draco’s brow furrowed. “You asked? Why?” At Harry’s sheepish look, Draco realized. “Me.” Harry nodded. The blond quickly changed the subject. “Is that where your smirk comes from?”

Harry grinned. “No, I got that from impersonating you. At the manor,” Harry added, realizing that sounded creepy and stalkerish.

“Well, you’ve certainly become quite fond of my expression. One might even say you’ve mastered it.”

“High praise from a Malfoy. And anyways, I learned from the best.”

 _Oh my God,_ Harry thought in horror. _Am I flirting with Draco Malfoy?_ He hurriedly stuffed his mouth with treacle tart to hide his panic. Usually, he liked to take his time with dessert--a habit he picked up while living with the Dursleys. It was so rare that he received anything tasty that he wanted to truly appreciate each flavor when he did. Now, however, hiding behind his treacle tart was far more important than savoring it.

“Merlin, you’re almost as bad as the Weasel.”

Harry should have been outraged on behalf of his friend, but Draco didn’t sound mocking, and Harry had to admit it was true. So he snorted instead.

Once they finished, Dobby came back to remove their plates. The elf was almost giddy when he took Draco’s.

“So you two were close then?” Harry asked, amused and a little relieved. He had to admit that he was worried after meeting Blinky. She seemed far too shocked by Harry’s gratitude. He thought Dobby might panic and start hitting himself in Draco’s presence--that Draco might take after his father in regards to his treatment of house-elves. He was glad to be proved wrong.

“Oh yes. Master Draco was very kind to Dobby. Master Draco is the one who told Dobby about Harry Potter.”

Harry looked at the Slytherin in shock. He had a vague recollection of Blinky saying something along those lines at the Manor. He still couldn’t figure the Slytherin out. Draco didn’t thank the house-elves, yet apparently, he talked to them a lot. The image that resulted was one of a very lonely childhood. It reminded Harry of his own.

Draco was blushing, flustered. “Potter, you have to understand I was a very jealous child. I often ranted about how bloody perfect everyone seemed to think you were. It’s not my fault Dobby took that to mean you _were_ perfect.”

Harry was flabbergasted at even being given an answer, let alone that one. “You were...jealous...of me?”

Draco looked at him like he was stupid. “Of course I was. You were famous. All the professors loved you, except Severus, of course. You could get away with breaking the rules--were even _praised_ for it. And all because of something you had no control over that happened when you were a baby.” When he was finished, he looked like he wished he’d never spoken. Harry was in awe.

“Funny, that’s the same way I’ve felt for years.” How odd that his once rival understood him better than his friends. That only he could look past the scar and see the average boy who lay beneath. Perhaps it was because Draco had met the _boy_ first, all those years ago in Madame Malkin’s, before he met _Harry Potter_. Draco looked at him like he was crazy, but Harry didn’t elaborate.

He felt truly content for the first time in a long while, and he didn’t want to break the magic by talking. Wordlessly, he lifted up the Cloak for Draco to step under, and they walked back to the Dungeons. As the blond slipped out, Harry said, “Goodnight, Draco,” not caring what the other boy thought. Draco hesitated and then turned back with a small smile. _Oh, that smile_...Harry imagined he would see it in his dreams until the day he died. So trusting and personal--like it was meant only for him. He’d never seen anything so stunning.

“Goodnight...Harry.”


	4. Internal Confessions

Slughorn’s first dinner party went by without a hitch. Harry and Ginny spent it giggling under their breath and sending each other knowing looks. Hermione didn’t enjoy herself nearly as much, as she spent it getting breathed on by Cormac McLaggen. Melinda Bobbin, Blaise Zabini, and Flora and Hestia Carrow were the only others in attendance. Harry wondered why Draco hadn’t been invited. The Malfoys were a powerful family, and Harry had heard Lucius was part of the Slug Club in his day. He figured he could ask him tomorrow tonight in the Room of Requirement.

As Harry left with his fellow Gryffindors, he heard a voice from behind him. “Potter.” It was Blaise Zabini, arms crossed and eyes darting from side to side. Harry wondered if suspicion was a trait taught in Slytherin. If _he_ were in the dungeons with that bunch, he’d learn to sleep with one eye open.

“What do you want, Zabini?”

“A word, if you will.”

Telling Ginny and Hermione to head on to the common room, Harry turned to face him. The dark-skinned boy jerked his thumb to the right, and they walked down a dark corridor, Harry somewhat warily. He stopped a few feet in.

“This is far enough. Talk.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Relax, Potter. I’m not going to hex you or turn you in to the Dark Lord.” Draco had said as much, but while Harry trusted the blond, he wasn’t as sold on the other Slytherins. “I just had a question to ask you.”

“Ask away.”

Blaise shifted uncomfortably. “Any idea which way Finnegan swings?”

Harry blinked. “Swings what?”

Blaise sighed in frustration. “Which team does he play for?”

“Well, he doesn’t play Quidditch, but if he did, he’d have to play for Gryffindor...” Harry’s brow was furrowed in confusion.

“Are you dense? For Merlin’s sake, Potter! Would Seamus Finnigan be more interested in shagging Pansy or me?”

“You’re asking whether Seamus is gay?”

Blaise tapped his foot impatiently. “I’m trying. I don’t seem to be making any headway.”

Harry eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you want to know?”

The other boy threw his hands in the air. “Because I want to bloody ask him out, scar head!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

“So, is he?”

“No idea.” Harry was shocked to find that Blaise Zabini was not only interested in a Gryffindor, but in a guy. It gave him hope that Draco could accept Harry’s feelings for him, and perhaps even return them.

Harry realized in horror that he’d just admitted to having feelings for his once rival. Even if it was only in his head, the confession was impossible to take back.

He had a crush on Draco Malfoy. He had a _crush_ on Draco bloody Malfoy!

“Potter?”

“Huh?” Harry pulled himself from his thoughts with a blush, grateful for the darkness. His skin felt like it was writhing all over his body, and it was hard to concentrate on anything but his panic.

“I asked if you could find out for me.”

“Sure, Zabini. Whatever.” And then he bolted. He couldn’t stand there any longer without blurting out his newly discovered secret. It was like a potion was bubbling inside him, and if he didn’t leave right now, it would explode. He spoke the password in a rush. The Fat Lady made him repeat it, probably just to get on his nerves.

When he entered the common room, Hermione was waiting up for him, though it seemed Ginny had gone to bed.

“Harry, did something happen with Zabini? You looked like you’ve seen a ghost.” She frowned once the words left her mouth, probably realizing how ridiculous the muggle phrase sounded in the wizarding world.

Harry shook his head and pushed past her. He’d deal with questioning later. Right now, there was one goal in his mind. He needed to get to the comfort of his bed and figure out what was bloody wrong with him.

He ran up the stairs and into the sixth year boys’ dorm. Ron had his curtains pulled shut--probably sulking over the dinner party and McLaggen. Harry was grateful. Although his best mate had helped him through many-a-problem in the past, this was something he needed to deal with alone. He climbed into bed and pulled his curtains shut, spelling them against disturbances. And then, he let his mind race.

If he thought about it, he should have seen this coming. His intense desire for Draco’s friendship. The lingering looks and touches. The heart-fluttering. The irrational part of his brain that was always screaming how bloody gorgeous Draco was. But the realization was like a physical blow.

He had a crush on Draco Malfoy.

For the first time, he let himself think about the other boy freely. The liquid grey eyes Harry could study for hours. The fine, silky hair he wanted to run his fingers through. He imagined Draco’s lips pressed against his own and couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him.

Looking beyond the physical attraction that was suddenly glaringly obvious, he evaluated _Draco_. Could Harry really have a crush on the person who had tormented him and his friends for years? Who used racial slurs and went out of his way to make Harry’s life hell?

He didn’t know the answer, but he stored those thoughts away. Tomorrow, he would see Draco, and he wanted to be well rested so he could properly evaluate. He was sure he couldn’t puzzle everything out before then anyways. As his pulse raced at the thought of meeting up with the Slytherin, Harry realized just how difficult his crush was going to make things. Why couldn’t anything in his life ever be easy?

 

At breakfast that day, Harry was feeling morose. The night before, his crush on Draco had been shocking. Terrifying. Even a little exciting. But in the light of day, he realized just how tragic it was. He was attracted to his (probably straight) ex-rival. It was hopeless. When the invitations to the Christmas Party started showing up, Harry’s day got even worse. Not only did he have to resign himself to his unrequited attractions; now he had to find a date he didn’t care for so he could go to a party he didn’t want to go to. Hermione would inevitably ask Ron, and then he’d be left alone. His head dropped into his hands with a sigh.

“Cheer up, Harry. Loads of people would love to be your date,” Hermione said, rubbing his back.

“Loads of people I don’t want to go with,” Harry grumbled, peeking a glance at Romilda Vane, who was openly staring--less like she wanted to hold his hand and more like he was raw meat and she was a wild animal. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Hermione glanced at Ron. The redhead wasn’t paying attention, glaring daggers at McLaggen and the invitations intermittently. With each passing second, his countenance grew darker. Harry thought perhaps he should buy his friend one of the muggle stress reliever toys before someone disintegrated under his stare. Could a person do that with wandless magic? He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

Once she was sure they wouldn’t be overheard, Hermione looked at him, keeping her voice to a whisper. “Harry, are you still trying to work out your sexuality?”

Harry couldn’t help the crazed laugh that bubbled up from his chest. “No, Hermione. I’m pretty sure I’ve worked it out.”

“And?” Her curiosity was tangible.

“I’m gay as hell,” Harry muttered, burying his head further in his arms.

“Oh, Harry! I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” She was far too excited for his comfort. What was so bloody great about all this?

Hermione leaned close to him. “Is there someone you fancy?”

“No. Maybe.” Harry sighed, pulling his head up to look at his friend weakly. “Yes.”

She smiled. “Well, ask him out. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Hexing, Harry thought dryly. Dismemberment. The Cruciatus Curse. _Rejection_. Harry’s chest ached. “Thanks, Hermione,” he said, fully intending to ignore her advice.

Draco was involved in conversation with Parkinson and Zabini across the room. Harry ogled at him, taking in the sight with new eyes. He was impeccably dressed, as usual, wearing robes of far higher quality than school ones. An amused smirk danced on his face. God, Harry wanted to kiss him.

Grey eyes locked on his. He was afraid his heart would burst out of his chest, ripping his ribcage open and leaving him to bleed out on the table. It would hurt less than the desperate beating it was doing now. Draco scowled in his direction, keeping up their ruse of enmity. Harry couldn’t force himself to glare back. He felt light-headed, and he seemed to have lost control of his facial muscles. How did girls like Lavender and Parvati get so excited about crushes? They were bloody awful.

Zabini leaned around Draco to talk to Parkinson, cutting off Harry’s view. The sight of the taller boy reminded Harry of his task, and he reluctantly pulled his thoughts from Draco. As Dean stood to leave, Harry caught him by the arm.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure, Harry. What’s up?”

Harry noticed Hermione watching them with a curious glint in her eye and pulled Dean into the hallway.

“Is this about Ginny? Because if you have a thing for her, I’ll back off. Everyone knows she’s had a crush on you for years.”

“Ginny?” If only he’d fallen for her instead. “No, actually, it’s about Seamus. Er...” Harry tried to remember the phrasing Blaise had used. “Who does he play Quidditch with?”

“Sorry?”

“What does he swing?” Dean looked at him like he was off his rocker. “What team--this is ridiculous. Would Seamus be interested in going out with Zabini?”

Dean laughed. “Interested? That Slytherin’s all he talks about these days.”

“Seriously? That’s great! Zabini was going to ask him out, but he wanted to find out if Seamus was gay first.”

Dean grinned. “You can give him a confident yes. He really said all that?”

Harry nodded. “He sounded sincere, too. I didn’t realize he was capable of anything but false charm.”

“Maybe Seamus isn’t as crazy as I thought, then. I couldn’t figure out what he saw in the guy.” Harry noticed something strange in Dean’s voice. He sounded oddly irritated, different from his usual easy-going manner. Harry brushed it aside.

“I think we all judged the Slytherins too harshly,” he said, thinking of Draco.

Dean raised his brows. “Have you got the hots for a Slytherin, too?”

Harry fought the blush threatening to consume his features. “Sod off.”

Dean rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “See you around, Harry. Oh, and don't tell Seamus about Zabini. I want it to be a surprise.”

Harry agreed. He’d pass on the message to Blaise and let him plan the big reveal. Despite house rivalries, it was a consensus that Slytherins were the best when it came to dramatic gestures. Harry was sure whatever Zabini had planned would be more than satisfactory. He left feeling lighter than he had earlier that morning. Maybe crushes weren’t as hopeless as he’d begun to think.

 

Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione. His chair was closest to the fire, and he wiggled his toes in contentment. It was nice to just relax, without the pressure of homework. Hermione had made him do all his assignments early, saying something about procrastination being his biggest downfall, and he was surprised how great it felt to have no responsibilities. It almost made all the grueling work beforehand worth it.

Hermione was making her way through a stack of books ten high while Harry read through the annotations in the Half-Blood Prince’s Advanced Potions book. Hermione’s irritated gaze eventually made him look up.

“Hermione, stop glaring at me like that.”

“Ginny and I told you to throw that out.” Hermione had been on his case about the textbook since he told her about it. She was more annoyed about Harry getting better grades in potions than about the potential danger. Cunningly, she “slipped up” and told Ginny, who used her experience with mysterious books to make a case against it as well. It was times like this when he wondered why Hermione wasn’t in Slytherin.

“And then you did about a thousand spells to look for dark magic and proved it to be harmless.” Harry wasn’t concerned about the so-called threat the book posed. As far as he could tell, it was just the property of a well-studied student--probably a Ravenclaw. He knew using it in class could be considered cheating, but he mitigated his guilt with the excuse that it put him in Slughorn’s favor. He was still working on being ‘collected’ like Dumbledore asked.

The bushy-haired girl shook her head, but her disapproving looks ceased. A few minutes later, she picked up the topic from earlier. “So, did you ask him?”

He looked up. “Hm?” He had just read an interesting spell: levicorpus. Maybe he would give it a try later.

“Did you ask Dean to the Christmas Party?” she asked like it was the most obvious question in the world.

“What?” That wasn't what he was expecting. He supposed it was better than her guessing the truth, but Dean? Harry viewed him purely as a friend, and it was difficult to even think of him in that light. Harry was almost insulted she didn't know him better, though he knew that was unfair. He doubted anyone knew him well enough to guess who he _did_ want to ask. Even Harry wouldn't have guessed Draco until last night.

She put on her ‘let-me-spell-it-out-for-you-from-the-beginning’ face. “You received a mysterious letter from ‘D’ a while back and lied about who it was from. Then you told me you’d decided for sure that you’re gay. I told you to ask out whoever you fancied, and you proceeded to pull Dean aside in private to ‘talk’.” She looked extremely proud of herself. Harry couldn’t keep from smiling. His friend was not often wrong.

“Hermione, Dean and I have been trying to set Seamus up with Blaise Zabini.”

The girl looked crestfallen. “Then you’re not going out?” Harry shook his head, grinning. “I was so sure I had it figured out.”

“Sorry,” he said rather unapologetically.

“So if it isn’t Dean, who is it?”

“I told you, it was Dumbledore.”

Hermione looked aghast. “You’re...you’re seeing Dumbledore?”

“What? Hermione! I meant that’s who the note was from.”

“Oh,” she exhaled in relief, gears already turning. “Who else’s name starts with a D?” Harry could practically see the mental list she was checking off. “There aren’t any other Gryffindors, at least not in our year...” Hermione eyed him suspiciously. “You’re sure it isn’t Dean?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, Hermione.”

As if to prove his claim, Ron came in muttering loudly. “...stupid Dean...can’t believe it...snogging my sister behind a tapestry...”

Harry raised his brows at Hermione. She shoved him lightly before turning her attention to Ron. “Are they going to the Christmas Party together?”

Ron scowled. “Not if I have any bloody say in it.”

“You don’t,” Harry pointed out helpfully. Ron’s expression soured further.

“I can’t believe anyone would want to go to Slughorn’s bloody party.”

“I think it sounds fun.”

“Well, sure,” Ron started, rolling his eyes, “spending the evening frolicking about with the teacher’s pets, having crumpets with the professor. What could be more fun than that?”

Hermione shut her book. “Ronald, stop it. Just because you’re bitter about not getting invited doesn’t mean you have any right to ruin it for the rest of us.”

The redhead bristled. “Bitter? I couldn’t care less about that party.”

“Oh, please, it's all you've talked about since breakfast. Your whining is absolutely childish!”

“Come off it. You’re just excited to get cozy with that git McLaggen. I bet you've already asked him.”

Hermione was splotched in anger now. “Actually, I was planning on asking you.” Ron’s jaw dropped, and she stormed out, taking her enormous stack of books with her. She didn't stop to pick up the one she dropped. Once she was gone, Ron deflated.

“Well, I bloodied that up, didn't I?” Harry gave him a sympathetic look. Ron sighed, sinking into the chair Hermione had vacated. “Girls. What are you gonna do?” He didn't notice his best friend’s snort. “Who are you taking?”

That was the question, wasn't it? Since Ron and Hermione didn't seem to be going together, perhaps he could ask Hermione. Or if she had another date picked out, maybe Luna. She was fun to be around, and she wouldn't mind being asked as a friend.

However easy Hermione made it sound, Harry didn't feel comfortable asking a guy. Firstly, he wasn't interested in anyone except Draco, who was firmly off-limits. Second, he wasn't quite ready to come out to everyone. As the Boy-Who-Lived, the Daily Prophet would make him front page and gossip would be flying immediately. That wasn't the kind of attention he could deal with right now.

He couldn't tell Ron any of that yet, as he still wasn't sure how his friend would handle his secret. Instead, Harry smirked and said, “Your mother.”

Draco would have been proud.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

They were once again looking through the Room of Requirement Library. Draco noticed Harry seemed jittery. The dark-haired boy kept bumping into him and knocking books off the shelves. His sentences were rambling and incoherent. After about fifteen minutes, Draco couldn’t take it.

“Potter, what’s your problem?”

Harry looked up at him as if he’d just realized where he was. “Sorry?”

Draco sighed. “If you have better things to do with your time, feel free to leave. Your thoughts are clearly elsewhere.”

“I’ll focus. Sorry.” Harry relaxed some after that. They had been working in silence for a few minutes when he said, “Zabini talked to me yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he wanted to know if Seamus was gay.”

Draco raised his brows. “He’s actually going for it. I’m impressed. I didn’t think he’d have the guts.”

“So he’s serious about this?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s hard to tell when Blaise is serious about anything. His signature look of vague amusement masks his true feelings. He gets it from me, of course,” Draco added boastfully. Harry snorted. The blond stared off thoughtfully. “I think he’s serious, though. For Blaise, anyway. He really seems to like Finnegan, for whatever unknown reason.”

Harry breathed out in relief. The Gryffindor must have been pleased to find it wasn’t all some insane prank. Draco felt rather offended that he would suspect such but figured it had more to do with Slytherin stereotypes than Blaise himself. They turned their attention back to the shelves.

“Draco, why weren’t you invited to Slughorn’s dinner party?” Harry asked as he picked up a new volume.

“After my father was sent to Azkaban, the Malfoy name lost its power,” Draco said, not looking up from the book he was reading.

“I’m sorry.”

Draco glanced at him. “For what?”

“Getting your father imprisoned.”

“Oh.” Draco shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. He deserved it. And I don’t really care about the status being a Malfoy brings anymore. More downsides than perks these days.” Harry nodded, but he looked unconvinced. “At least I’ve got this complimentary tattoo.”

The Gryffindor snorted, and Draco grinned. He no longer worried about keeping his mask up around Harry, and sometimes he was more open with him than he was with Pansy and Blaise. He didn’t linger on the reasons why.

“I always assumed you two were close. All that, ‘my father will hear about this’ stuff.”

Draco leaned easily against the cluttered table behind him, folding his arms with a smirk. “That was petty, wasn’t it? I was such a spoiled brat.”

“Still are.”

“Sod off.” They both cracked up a little. Draco sobered first. “There’s a difference between raising an heir and raising a son. It wasn’t until fourth year when the Dark Lord rose that I realized just how significant that difference was. My father ran back to his master like a lost house-elf, without giving a thought to how it would affect my mother or me. Did you know he’s the reason I’m in this position? The Dark Lord gave me this task because he knew I would fail. He thinks I don’t know, but he’s just waiting to destroy me as soon as I mess up. It’s punishment for my father’s failure to get the prophecy at the end of last year.

“Looking back on it, I don’t think Father ever really cared about me. I was just a status symbol. Someone to carry on the family name.” Draco smirked a little at the thought of his father’s face if he came out as gay. Hearing his precious son would most likely bear no heirs of his own would break his tiny, cold heart. Maybe he’d share his secret in celebration when his father was released from Azkaban.

Harry just nodded and went back to the book he was looking through. Draco liked that. He didn’t offer up apologies or condolences. He just left it alone. It almost reminded him of his one-sided conversation with Harry’s owl over the summer. He could spill all his emotions without worrying about what reaction he’d receive. It was a catharsis Draco sorely needed.

“Harry, what’s your owl’s name?”

The boy looked surprised at the question. “Hedwig.”

“She’s beautiful.”

Harry smiled. “She is. Hagrid gave her to me when I first found out I was a wizard.” Draco still felt a wave of distaste well up inside him at the mention of the half-giant, but he forced it down. His prejudices were still there, but the bigotry he used to take pride in now reminded him of his father. He couldn’t become that.

“Will you send her to me sometime? I want to thank her. She’s a wonderful listener.”

Harry looked shocked once more but recovered with a smile and a nod. Draco went back to his work, satisfied.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

When Harry had put away his Invisibility Cloak after dropping Draco off outside the Slytherin common room, he crawled into bed. Now that he had time to think, he let his thoughts trail back to his questions from the night before.

Could Harry forget the past? He now saw the error in his ways. He was the one who rejected the outstretched hand--who had judged the other so completely after a single comment. The rest of their rivalry had fallen into place naturally.

Draco had admitted to having prejudices, but there was more to him than that. He was more layered than Harry had ever imagined. Draco was sarcastic and witty. He was arrogant and stubborn. He was bruised and battered, but he stood strong for those he cared about. Despite his dark past, he was still full of childlike wonder and awe. He was a boy who talked to house-elves and owls because he was lonely, and was grateful for the simple kindness of having someone listen. Draco was beautiful, and when he smiled, Harry thought maybe he was too.

Despite how crazy it sounded, Harry had grown to care for the Slytherin. Then again, maybe it wasn’t crazy at all. They had broken down all their carefully constructed barriers and found the true connection underneath. It had always been there, from the beginning. Their paths were intertwined from the day they met--perhaps even before.

And it was then, lying on his bed, that Harry finally understood the full extent of that connection. Why he was drawn to the silver-eyed boy. Why he comforted him when he was broken. Why he wanted to spend every moment with him. Touch him. Kiss him. Spend the rest of eternity exchanging smiles and banter with him. Harry had finally reached the conclusion that he didn’t just have a crush on Draco Malfoy.

He was in love with him.


	5. Slytherin Tactics

It was the day of the Slytherin-Gryffindor match. It was also the morning after invitations were sent out. Draco and Pansy were sulking. It wasn’t very often they were left out of events such as this. Both were trying to convince Blaise to take them as his date. Blaise merely tutted at them and said he was waiting for word from his informant.

“You mean Harry,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

“On a first name basis now, are we?”

Draco couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, but he shoved Blaise anyways. “Only in private.” Pansy oohed at that, and she got shoved too. As the mail came in, Draco noticed a streak of white coming his way.

“Hedwig!” He stroked her feathers fondly as he undid the note. Pansy looked on as he unrolled the parchment.

_Here she is, as requested. Also, tell Zabini I received a resounding yes. -H_

“Blaise, your informant has replied.”

The usually cool and collected boy pounced on Draco to get the message. “YES!” he yelled, attracting looks from the rest of the table. Pansy was dragged away to help plan a romantic proposal of sorts. Draco turned his smile back to Hedwig.

“Thank you for everything. You were the only thing that kept me sane over the summer. Also, your owner is brilliant. Tell him so, won’t you?” He knew very well she couldn’t, and it was the only reason he felt comfortable saying it.

When she flew away, he blew her a kiss. He did have a flair for the dramatics. Millicent shot him a look. He raised a brow in challenge, and she shrugged before turning her attention back to her food. Draco finished his breakfast in silence and left to prepare for the Quidditch match.

 

When Draco walked onto the field with the rest of Slytherin, they got the usual boos. He didn’t care, however, because he noticed the excited energy filling the team. The air was crisp and cool, but not cold, with fluffy clouds dancing across the sky. They were the kind of clouds that looked as if you could take a bite out of them--with defined edges and puffy protrusions. A slight breeze fluttered, but not one strong enough to affect the game. In other words, it was perfect.

When he saw Blaise take off into the sky, his lips twitched. So this was what his friends had in mind. Blaise flew towards the Gryffindor stands, showing off on his way. Draco was impressed. He’d seen the other boy do tricks, of course--that wasn't what impressed him.

It was his confidence. It took guts to ask such a personal thing so publicly. Blaise wasn’t officially out as bisexual to most of the school, though he’d had flings with both guys and girls in the past. Though he wouldn't say so to the boy’s face if he wanted to keep his limbs attached, his efforts were almost Gryffindor. This was a huge moment for him, and Draco couldn’t help but feel proud of his friend. If perhaps a little jealous.

For all his confidence, Draco was acutely aware of other’s opinions. He knew coming out would change the way people saw him--especially his parents. And he wasn’t ready for that shift. Most of the time, he didn’t mind keeping it hidden. He wasn’t interested in dating anyone at Hogwarts, so there was no need to tell anyone. Still, keeping the secret took a toll.

As Blaise hovered over the stands, words began to write themselves across the sky behind him. Most likely the wandwork of one Pansy Parkinson.

_Seamus Finnigan, will you be my date to the Christmas Party?_

There was chaos as everyone began either cheering, snickering, or full-blown freaking out. Finnigan pushed his way to the front as Blaise swooped down. There was a moment of stillness while they discussed something. And then Blaise leaned forwards on his broom and pressed his lips to Finnigan’s. Draco grinned and whooped with the rest of them, despite his reputation as the Ice Prince.

After a while, the cheers turned to wolf whistles as the boys deepened the kiss. McGonagall cleared her throat in the announcer’s booth, though she too looked amused. The two broke away, both looking embarrassed when it hit them that they’d just made out in front of the entire school. When Blaise flew back, he had a sloppy grin on his face and looked only slightly ashamed at Madame Hooch’s admonishment.

The teams moved into formation, and Draco stepped forwards to shake hands with Potter--it was easier to think of him as Potter when they competed.

“You’d better hope Zabini can keep his mind on the Quaffle.”

“Worry about your own ball, Potter. Although I’m catching the Snitch, so perhaps it doesn’t matter.”

“You’d sound more threatening if you had any talent to back that up.”

Draco felt his competitive spirit filling him, and the flicker of humor in each of their eyes began to mean less. He worried for a moment that things would get out of hand--potentially even make them rivals again. Quidditch was something both boys were immensely passionate about. He supposed it would help them keep up their act if they fought. And Harry would forgive him for anything he said or did later. Draco might not be so understanding, but at that moment, he didn’t care. It was all about the game.

The balls went up, and Draco shot into the air. The clouds started to seem less delicious and more annoying. At his height, it was hard to see through them, and he only had a vague idea what was happening in the game. He could hear cheers and boos intermittently, and every now and then a loud bit of commentary. Blaise and the Weaslette both scored at least twice. If he had to guess, he’d say the score was tied up around 40.

Draco searched for the snitch, swooping down a little every few minutes, but he hadn’t spotted it yet. Each flicker of gold turned out to be sunlight glinting off broomsticks. In all honesty, he was getting rather bored. He wondered if anyone had ever fallen asleep while playing Quidditch. When the other Seeker flew his way, excitement filled him. Some competitive banter would keep him awake.

“Malfoy!”

“What is it, Potter?”

The Gryffindor flew up to meet him, a glare on his flushed face. “Your team’s cheating.”

Draco snorted. “So?”

Potter threw his hands in the air, not even paying mind to the skill such a gesture required. He really was a natural, as much as Draco hated to admit it. “So that’s against the rules! You need to tell them to stop.”

The blond’s smirk only angered the Gryffindor further. “It’s only against the rules if you get caught.” A Slytherin motto if there ever was one.

Potter fumed, but after a moment his expression grew mischievous. “You forget I’m a Slytherin too.”  _Or would have been_ , Draco thought to himself, _if it wasn’t for me_.

“Yeah? Are you going to make me remember, scar head? Or are you too much of a Gryffindor to play dirty?”

Potter grinned maliciously. Draco was starting to feel nervous. He was certain he liked the dark-haired boy better as a lion than a snake. Not that he liked him at all, of course.

“Well,” Potter said, “we’re pretty high up here. No one can see us. And it’s only against the rules if you get caught.”

Draco’s eyes widened as the boy swooped in and kissed him full on the mouth. By the time Draco realized what was happening, Potter had swept off. _What in Merlin’s name was that?_ His lips still tingled, and his pulse was racing. It was only the cheers that drew him back to reality.

He dropped down below the clouds to see a victorious Potter holding the snitch. Draco’s blood began to boil. The Gryffindors were whooping and patting each other on the back when he touched down beside them, throwing his broom aside. He yanked a laughing Potter by the back of his shirt.

“POTTER, WHAT THE _HELL_ WAS THAT?”

Shocked green eyes looked back at him. Potter recovered quickly, replacing his surprise with a look of superiority. “Playing dirty, Malfoy. You should know.”

And before Draco could think about what he was doing, his fist collided with Potter’s jaw. He heard a pop, but by that point it was too late to care. He pounced, pushing the Gryffindor to the ground and beating him further. By the time Potter started fighting back, Madame Hooch was blowing her whistle, and they were spelled apart.

“Boys! That is quite enough!”

Draco snarled, and Potter spit blood at him. He looked oddly hurt. Draco couldn’t figure out why. _He_ was the one who should be upset, after all.

“This isn’t over, Malfoy,” the Weasel said, dragging his friend away by the arm. The Weaslette took her place on his other side, touching Potter’s face in concern. The casual touch made Draco's teeth clench. He glared daggers at the three of them until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Draco, you alright?” Blaise asked.

“I’m fine.” He shrugged off the hand and walked away. His Nimbus shot into his grip as he passed.

The day didn’t look so pleasant anymore. It was like the clouds darkened with Draco’s mood. A rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, and the sound perfectly voiced the angry murmurs his heart was making. The breeze that swept past chilled him to the bone, and he wasn’t sure whether it was the weather or his rage making him shake.

He didn’t talk to anyone in the locker room, and they didn’t talk to him. All the Slytherins knew not to bother him when he was in a mood lest they wanted to be hexed into next week. A steady stream of curses was muttered under his breath. “Potter” was thrown in quite frequently, with as much venom as any of the actual swear words. He wasn’t quite sure why he was so upset, but it didn't matter. He felt used and enraged, and all his anger was directed at a certain dark-haired Gryffindor. Draco slammed his locker shut. _Stupid Potter._

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Harry didn’t speak during the walk back to the lockers. Ron and Ginny were too busy ranting about Malfoy to notice.

“I’m going to hex him.” Ron’s fists clenched.

“I’ll join you,” Ginny muttered.

“I mean, would you believe the nerve of that git? Beating up Harry like that?” Ron exclaimed. “He didn’t do anything to deserve it!”

But he had. Harry had destroyed the fragile friendship they built in the past few months over a Quidditch game. Of course, he knew it was more than that. What Harry did went far beyond Quidditch. Draco was flushed from the match, his hair tousled in the wind. He was smirking in that gorgeous and so very Draco Malfoy way, and Harry wanted him. He wanted to run his fingers through his blond hair and hold him in his arms and kiss him. He settled for the last one, thinking he’d be able to get away with it if the other boy thought it was merely a Quidditch tactic.

Hermione caught up with them after a minute. “Harry, you should go see Madame Pomfrey. You look awful.” Her concern only made him feel worse.

“Yeah, mate. ‘Mione’s right.” Harry wondered briefly if the two had made up before his thoughts shifted back to his own misery.

He wanted to hide in a hole and never come out again. It was ridiculous to have thought he’d have a chance with the Slytherin, but to receive such backlash made him feel empty inside. Harry knew it was uncalled for to kiss him, but he thought the other boy would be shocked and then get over it. He hadn’t expected such... _disgust_.

Harry had watched Draco when Zabini asked out Seamus, and the blond had looked pleased. Even excited. So if it wasn’t homophobia, then it was Harry. His chest clenched painfully, and he felt the strange urge to cry. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? Nobody had died.

“I’m fine.”

But it felt like he was dying. For a moment.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Draco was sprawled dramatically across the couch. It was a little after midnight, and he had cleared the common room once again. This time, it was only him and Pansy. Blaise was off with Finnegan, probably already shagging, if Draco knew his friend at all. He wondered if they were at the Gryffindor victory celebration. Part of him hoped they were avoiding it like the plague, simply out of principle.

“He kissed me!”

“Draco, darling, you’ve said that seven times.” Her fingers were carding through his hair, and she was trying to sound soothing beneath her impatience. The fire crackled in the background, but it didn’t relax him like it usually did. The sparks only fueled his agitation.

“He used me! He played with my emotions for a stupid match. What kind of a friend does that?” He knew he was whining, but he didn’t care.

“So you’re friends now,” Pansy stated drily.

Draco glared. “Why can’t you see how serious this is?”

“It’s serious alright. I just don’t see how it’s bad.”

“He kissed me!”

“We’ve established that, dear. Now, what does it generally mean when someone kisses you?” Draco sighed. Pansy put on her ‘Merlin-I’m-talking-to-a-four-year-old’ face. “It means they like you.”

“But Potter doesn’t like me. He’s straight. And we’re enemies.”

“Who says he’s straight? All we have as evidence to prove his sexuality is him kissing _you_. And what happened to being friends?”

“Pans, we _do_ have evidence. Chang, remember? And he only kissed me to get the snitch. It was a very low-down, evil, conniving--”

“Effective..."

“ _Slytherin_ tactic.”

Pansy exhaled loudly. “Draco dear, think about it. What kind of a boy logically thinks, ‘I know what will help me get the snitch! I’ll kiss a bloke!’?”

“A scar-headed Gryffindor one?”

“A very gay one.”

Draco groaned. “You're being ridiculous. He’d never like me like that. You weren’t there. You didn’t see the evil glint in his eye.” Pansy looked unimpressed. “He was probably thinking, ‘what’s the most brutal way to destroy Draco Malfoy? Oh, I know! I’ll use his feelings for me to my advantage and--”

“Did you just admit to having feelings for Potter?”

Draco shut his mouth, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “I most certainly did not.”

Pansy giggled uncontrollably. “You _did!”_

“Parkinson, stop that senseless laughter this instant.”

She kept giggling and shrieking ‘you did’. There was a time when Draco thought giggling was a rather Hufflepuff sound. Now it was as Slytherin as the girl producing it.

“Fine! Okay, I did. Just shut the fuck up!”

Her giggles quieted at that, but her grin remained. Despite the grumbling and glaring, Draco admitted to himself that it felt good to get that off his chest. It was like a weight had been lifted off of him.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” she said, pretending to tear up. “My little Drakie is growing up.”

“For Merlin’s sake, Pansy. You’re not my mother.”

“I’m just so proud of you for finally coming to terms with your first crush. It’s only taken, what, five--six years?”

“I have not had a crush on Potter for that long!” They were enemies! From the start! Draco didn’t even know he was gay until fourth year when...when Potter danced at the Yule Ball. He was a terrible dancer, but he looked _good_ in a set of dress robes. How had Draco rationalized these thoughts at the time? They were rather incriminating now that he looked back on them. Had he really liked Potter for that long? Perhaps longer, if Pansy’s word was anything to go by?

Pansy shook her head in agreement. “No, it was only a crush for the first few. Somewhere along the way you fell in _love_.” She stretched out the last word like it was taffy.

Draco scoffed. Maybe he shouldn’t trust her word if she was going to be that outlandish. “Oh, come off it. I may have a crush on the Golden Boy, but I’m not in love with him.”

“ _Right..._ ”

Draco resituated himself in her lap, pulling a velvet pillow on top of him to cuddle with. “Now, where were we?”

“Wallowing in misery?” she suggested helpfully.

“Yes. That was far more enjoyable. Let’s return to that line of conversation, shall we?”

Pansy rolled her eyes but dutifully listened to another hour of whining about Potter before falling asleep on the couch. And really, what else were best friends for?

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Draco wasn’t at breakfast the next day. Harry had tried to take his mind off of everything the day before. Gryffindor celebrated, and Harry came clean about the liquid luck affair to Ron and Hermione. He’d eventually stopped feeling sorry for himself and partied a little with his friends.

Ron and Hermione were back to fighting now that they were sure Harry was okay, so he hung out with them separately. Ron ditched him early on for the attentions of a very eager Lavender Brown. She now sat in the redhead's lap. Harry would have been happy for his friend if it hadn’t been for the looks he kept shooting towards Hermione. Ron was obviously pining for the girl and using Lavender to make his crush jealous. It was starting to get annoying really--how dense they both were. He wanted to just shove them into a room together, but he knew how much he hated it when people interfered with his love life so he stayed out of it.

When Hermione broke down around midnight, Harry let her cry on his shoulder, commiserating in silence for a while. Eventually, she picked up on the war happening in his eyes.

“Is this how it feels for you?” she asked through her tears.

“What?” He thought he knew what she was talking about, but he wanted to know how much she'd figured out.

She smiled weakly, a slight quiver in her lip. “Not being able to be with whoever he is.”

Harry swallowed, seeing Draco’s angered face in his mind. Feeling those grey eyes more painfully than any of his blows. “Yeah.”

“You can talk to me, you know,” she said softly, brushing the moisture off her cheeks.

“I know. Just...not yet.”

She nodded before resting her head on his shoulder. They stayed like that until the sounds of the party died down. Harry distracted her with questions about the History of Magic assignment when they passed Ron and Lavender snogging in the common room. She gave him a knowing look but appeared grateful anyways.

Now, Harry rubbed at exhausted eyes, tilting his glasses askew. Breakfast was quieter than usual, as most of the Gryffindors were hungover or sleep deprived. Neville stared drowsily at a bowl of oatmeal, trailing a spoon through the substance in disinterest. Ginny rested her head on Dean’s shoulder. Both of them looked tired but content, despite Ron’s disapproving gaze. Hermione kept blinking like she was trying to wake up her brain through rapid eyelid flickering. Seamus was the only one who looked alive, and his grin made Harry wonder just what he and Zabini had gotten up to.

When an owl swept down, Harry felt a burst of excitement. Maybe Draco sent him something. When he unrolled the note, however, it was from Remus.

 

_Harry,_

_How are you? It’s been a while. I was hoping to see you at the Burrow over the summer, but Dumbledore informed me of your decision to stay with your relatives. He didn’t explain why, but I assume it was because of Sirius. Merlin knows that was the cause of my self-appointed solitude._

_I hope you’re doing better now, though I can’t say I’ve been so fortunate. I’ve found that no matter how hard I try, everything comes back to Siri. The wolf is upset as well, making full moons more unbearable than usual. Tonks has been understanding, and it’s better than it was in the beginning, but I can’t seem to move on. She suggested I visit Headquarters as a way to get some closure. I’ve decided to spend Christmas there and thought I’d extend the invitation to you. It might help you sort through the past--move forwards. Think about it and get back to me with your decision._

_Love,_

_Remus_

 

Harry folded the letter back up, an idea forming in his head as he stood. It was an incredibly stupid idea, but it gave him hope nonetheless.

A few minutes later, he sat in Professor Dumbledore’s office. It looked the same as always--something Harry had grown to like about the place. Various magical trinkets were scattered amongst bowls of sweets. In the corner of the room sat the Pensieve, which they had been making use of for the past few months.

Harry learned about Tom Riddle’s past and blood heritage. The more he saw, the more he saw similarities between Voldemort and himself. They didn’t scare him as much as they used to. He wondered if Draco had anything to do with that. The blond had proved so many of Harry’s prejudices wrong, and helped him accept his Slytherin tendencies--even celebrate them. Harry felt more whole than ever before, like he was no longer ignoring part of himself. He also felt stronger, because he knew Voldemort could no longer control him in that way. If he accepted their similarities, they could no longer be used against him the way they were in fifth year.

A flap of Fawkes’ wings brought him back to the present. The bird was perched on the back of Dumbledore’s chair, watching Harry with knowing eyes. The Headmaster unwrapped a lemon drop and placed it in his mouth.

“What seems to be the matter, my boy?” His tongue curled around the candy, clicking softly as he spoke.

“Professor, I was wondering if I could invite Draco to stay at Grimmauld Place with Remus and me for Christmas.” As the words left his mouth, he wondered if he was in his right mind. Draco hated him now, surely, and even when they were getting along, he probably would have turned down the offer. They had never even officially called themselves friends.

“Oh?”

Harry nodded. “He can’t exactly go home with all that’s happening, but he shouldn’t have to stay at the school alone.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “I think you’ll find his friends would be more than willing to stay with him should he decide to remain here for the holidays.”

Harry squirmed. “Right. Er, well...”

“How do you feel about Mister Malfoy, Harry? Because if my memory serves me correctly--which admittedly happens far less often than I would like--you two were rivals not months ago. I even observed a fight break out after the match yesterday.”

“We’re friends now, sir. Or at least we were. I think.” He frowned.

“Is that all?” Harry shifted in his seat. “It is not wrong to love him, you know.” The boy glanced up, surprise written across his features. “Yes, I’ve been around a long time. I know the signs of young love when I see them.”

“And you’re not...disappointed?”

Dumbledore’s brows rose. “That you love a boy, or that you love a Malfoy?”

Harry shrugged. “Either, I guess.”

“Harry, when I was a young man, I fell for Grindelwald, the darkest wizard of his time.”

“Oh.” He looked both shocked and relieved.

“Mister Malfoy can be invited to Grimmauld. It is your house now.” The man handed Harry a slip of paper. “Here is the address, if he should accept.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

Dumbledore nodded. As Harry stood to leave, the man added, “And Harry?”

“Yes, sir?”

His eyes twinkled once more, a small smile on his face. “I think you’ll find your case is not as hopeless as you fear. As I said, I know young love when I see it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and comments! It brightens my day every time I get feedback from such lovely readers <3


	6. Christmas Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than the rest but has lots of Drarry developments to make up for it. Hope you enjoy!

Harry was still sulking almost a week later as he got ready for Slughorn’s party. He was starting to wonder if Draco was right about Dumbledore being a bit off his rocker. Draco wasn’t in love with him. The Slytherin was bloody  _ avoiding  _ him. Harry had planned to apologize and invite Draco to stay with him for Christmas on their Friday night meeting, but the blond didn’t show. Harry had gone back to the Tower without looking through the books. It wasn’t the same by himself.

Now he was trying not to feel depressed as he put on the dress robes he wore two years earlier to the Yule Ball. It was difficult, however, because the fact that his robes still fit reminded him of his short, scrawny stature. It didn't help that Ron was still sulking about Hermione and Ginny. His attitude was contagious, and Harry felt the weight of it tugging down the corners of his mouth. Only Dean and Seamus looked happy, but even that didn’t last long.

“I can’t believe you two,” Ron said in disgust. He was sitting on his bed, crouched over a game of solo wizard’s chess. Harry didn’t understand how the game could still be fun when Ron won every time, though he supposed winning made it satisfying. Harry himself couldn’t stand it, as he lost to Ron each game. Thus, his friend had found a willing opponent in magic.

Dean sighed. “Ron, I’m sorry, but I like your sister more than I like you right now, so I’m not going to listen to your whining.” The black boy looked sharp in his new dress robes. Unlike Harry, he had grown several inches and filled out a bit since fourth year, a fact that made Harry envious. Seamus looked good as well, and their appearances were bettered by the excitement on their faces.

“Whatever.” Ron looked back down at his game, a scowl twitching across his features.

“How are things with Zabini?” Harry asked to break the tension.

Seamus brightened considerably. “Great. We’re really getting on. Blaise is a lot more romantic than I would have guessed.”

Harry grinned, but he noticed Dean wasn’t making eye contact. He looked almost angry, and Harry wondered if he secretly felt the same as Ron. That didn’t make sense though since Dean had helped Harry set the two up. Harry decided he was imagining things and went back to adjusting his robes.

Seamus and Dean left a few minutes later after asking if Harry wanted them to wait. He said he’d catch up in a bit. There was something he needed to find out. Harry hesitated before asking the question that had been bugging him.

“Ron, I understand why you’re upset with Dean.”  _ Even though I don’t agree with it  _ , he added mentally. “But what’s your problem with Seamus? Is it that he’s gay?” Harry was afraid to hear the answer.

Thankfully, Ron’s jaw dropped. “Blimey, Harry, of course not. I’m not a total git. I wouldn’t care if he was going out with a Gryffindor guy, or even a Ravenclaw. It’s that he’s dating that snake!”

“Oh.” Harry let out a sigh of relief. Maybe he could tell him then? He was starting to feel guilty that Hermione knew he was gay and Ron didn’t.

He was about to open his mouth when Ron added, “I mean, Zabini? That’s almost as bad as you going with Malfoy.”

Harry’s heart fell. He had known it would take Ron a while to get used to the idea, but to just say it outright like that...  _ Not that it matters what he thinks of Draco _ , Harry thought bitterly,  _ since Draco will never speak to me again.  _ Even so, he didn’t feel quite so ready to come out anymore. He left without trying to do his hair.

 

When he arrived at the party, Luna was waiting for him out front in an odd but amusing dress.

“Hi, Luna.”

“Harry! Have you looked at your Wrackspurts lately?”

“Can’t say I have.” He still wasn’t exactly sure what a Wrackspurt _ was _ , but he’d learned to just go with it when Luna brought them up.

“Well, there are more than usual. Your head’s bursting with them! Some people theorize that Wrackspurts are attracted to those feeling strong emotions.”

Harry snorted. “Then I must have the world record.”

Luna smiled dazedly. “Actually, the world record is held by a French wizard who graduated from Beauxbatons in 1995.”

Harry grinned. He made the right choice in asking Luna. He'd forgotten how much he loved her company. In his amusement, he didn’t even notice the jealous looks he got from the other girls.

They walked into a room that looked almost like a wizarding tent. The colors were red, green, and gold, which were chosen to keep up the Christmas theme, but reminded Harry of Slytherin and Gryffindor colors. He thought there was symbolism in the two coming together in such a pleasant fashion.

“Harry, my boy!” Slughorn said, scurrying over to meet him without a word to Luna. In his haste, he almost tripped over one of the house-elves carrying a platter of refreshments. “Come, come. There are some people I’d like you to meet.”

 

What seemed like hours later, Harry and Luna ran into Hermione. They had been introduced to Eldred Worple, who kept insisting on writing Harry’s biography, and a vampire named Sanguini. It was nice to see a familiar face after all the odd introductions. She seemed, however, to be hiding behind a red curtain.

“Are you hiding from the Nargles? I can always lend you my charm if you’d like.”

Hermione gave her a pitiful look. “Worse. McLaggen. I took off after a very unfortunate encounter with the mistletoe.”

“Hermione,” Harry said with a sad smile, “I love you, but you can be rather dense sometimes, you know that?”

She didn’t even look offended at the insult to her intelligence. “Tell me about it.”

“Your plan worked if it makes you feel any better. Ron’s sulking in the Gryffindor dormitory.”

Hermione groaned. “I wish it did. Only I’ve found McLaggen isn’t worth it.” A grimace darkened her face. “And as angry as I am at Ronald, I keep thinking how much happier I’d be if he was here instead.”

“I know what you mean,” Harry said. He glanced at Luna to make sure she wasn’t offended. She didn’t seem to notice the implication of his words, or if she did, she didn’t care.

Hermione shot him a sympathetic look. “No one would hate you if you came out, you know. You defeated Voldemort. It’s not an accomplishment that can be taken away by homophobia.”

Harry sighed. “But it’s an accomplishment that means I’ll make the front page of the Daily Prophet.”

“Whoever you fancy, I’m sure he’ll be okay with keeping things a secret. Just tell him how you feel.”

“He’s straight,” Harry said, thinking of Parkinson practically attached to Draco's side. “So there won’t be any _ things  _ to keep secret.”

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

He shrugged. “It’s not your fault. I’m the bloody idiot who fell for him.”

She gave him a reprimanding look, as if to say ‘you’re not an idiot’.

Luna seemed intrigued. “Is that why you have so many Wrackspurts? Unrequited love is the most common cause.”

Hermione looked unimpressed by this fanciful logic and didn’t even blink at the implication that Harry was in love as opposed to simply crushing.

“Something like that,” Harry said dismissively.

As a house-elf went by, they grabbed some mead. Hermione took off seconds later when she spotted Cormac coming their way. The movement attracted Slughorn’s attention once more.

“Harry! Just the young man I was looking for. See, I was telling Severus how well you’ve been doing in my class...”

Snape stood behind the new Potions master with a disbelieving sneer on his face. Movement in the corner of Harry’s eye drew his attention away. It seemed as if an invisible force was knocking over platters and tripping guests.

“...well, Severus, perhaps everything has finally clicked for the boy. You know that can happen sometimes. I remember this one student who...”

Another tray toppled near the edge of the room. Harry searched the guests for any signs of spellwork. No wands were out that he could see. Everyone looked as if they couldn’t see the damage swirling around them. Almost like it was...invisible.

“...why, he takes after his mother. You and Lily were close, yes?”

The invisible culprit was right behind Snape and Slughorn now, carrying a tray of drinks just above the shorter man.

“What is it you plan to do after Hogwarts, my boy?”

Harry blinked up at Slughorn, trying to find where they were in the conversation. “I plan to be an auror, sir.”

The tray began to tilt threateningly to the side. Harry knew it was only seconds from toppling on the Potions professor’s head. He downed the rest of his glass.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to refill my drink.” He heard Luna discussing something called the Rotfang Conspiracy as he took off towards a house-elf on the perimeter. Behind him, he heard the sounds of a toppled tray. Another guest lost her footing. Reaching the edge of the room, he spun skillfully, looping his arm through an invisible one and pulling the perpetrator behind a swath of green fabric.

“What happened to that Malfoy grace I’ve heard so much about?” Harry asked with a grin, forgetting they were supposed to be fighting. Draco whipped the Cloak off in one smooth motion.

“Oh, sod off, Potter,” he replied, but his lips twitched at the corners. Harry felt lighter than he had in days.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Draco was glad he’d decided to come. He noticed Harry’s Invisibility Cloak abandoned in the Room of Requirement on Friday when he stopped by late, and the idea struck. He had planned to skip their weekly meet-up but changed his mind twenty minutes in, deciding it was time to talk things over.  _ What is love doing to me? Since when does  _ Draco Malfoy  _ talk things over?...And did I just say...? Fuck  _ . But he went anyways, only to find that the Gryffindor had already left.

Once there, he went through an entire stack of books, trying to take his mind off his disappointment at Harry’s no-show. It ended up being a rather informative session, and he was almost certain he knew what they needed to do.

Draco now stood under the cover of red and gold fabric, looking into emerald eyes. They stared at each other in silence for a while, both smiling stupidly. Harry sobered first.

“Draco, I’m sorry for Saturday. My actions were completely uncalled for, and I crossed a line. I know you thought it was disgusting and repulsive, and I’m sorry.” His eyes were wide and pleading. If Draco wasn’t convinced he should forgive him before, he most certainly was after looking into those emerald facets.

“I didn’t think that,” Draco murmured. Now that he could admit it to himself, he actually  _ enjoyed  _ the kiss. And he desperately wished it would happen again.

“Then why...?”

Draco snorted at Harry’s confused expression. “I was mad that you used me, not that you kissed me. I don’t appreciate being played like that.”

Harry brightened considerably. Draco would have to sort out what that reaction meant later. “Well, I’m sorry then. I won’t do it again.”

“Apology accepted.” Draco cleared his throat when the silence became too stifling. “I figured out how to get the Death Eaters in.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Really? That’s great. How?”

“Have you ever heard of a Vanishing Cabinet?”

“It sounds familiar.”

“The Weasel twins pushed Graham into one last year.”

Harry’s face was blank. “Graham? Oh, right. Montague’s in your house isn’t he? I always forget you have first names.”  _ You don’t forget mine,  _ Draco wanted to point out.

“Well, someone was telling the story to a group of first years, and I started looking into what exactly a Vanishing Cabinet was. Apparently, if you place something in one Cabinet, it can be retrieved from the Cabinet it’s paired with.”

Harry grinned excitedly. “Is the Hogwarts one still here?”

Draco nodded. “The staff placed it in the Room of Requirement after the incident last year. I did some research, and it appears the matching one is at Borgin & Burkes in Knockturn Alley. I think if we repair the one here, it could transport people in and out of Hogwarts without alerting the wards.”

“Draco, that’s brilliant!”

The Slytherin smirked, basking in the praise. “We can start working on the repairs after the holidays.”

They smiled at each other happily for a few seconds before silence took over once more. It was strange how one event could erase the months of comfortable togetherness they shared. Draco couldn’t remember feeling so awkward and out of place around the other boy.

He wondered if it was the time away from each other or the fight itself. Draco had been avoiding Harry all week--and even before they became friends, they still made an effort to interact nearly every day. To outright ignore each other was something they had never done. It made Draco feel slightly queasy not to see the familiar face in the Great Hall, but he purposefully focused on his plate instead. When they worked together in Potions, Draco barely said a word and refused to make eye contact. It was ridiculous how anxious it made him feel.

The Gryffindor fidgeted with the empty glass in his hand as if deciding what to say. Draco took the time to admire the boy in front of him. He wore the same robes as he did at the Yule Ball in fourth year, and they looked even better on him than Draco remembered. Despite the fancy attire, Harry’s dark hair was just as messy as ever--something Draco found nearly irresistible. He wanted to feel the tousled strands between his fingers. He wanted to kiss that opening and closing mouth. But then words came out of his lips, breaking the trance.

“Draco, would you like to spend Christmas with me?”

The Slytherin blinked. “With your muggle relatives?”

Harry laughed. “No, at my house with Remus Lupin and possibly Nymphadora Tonks.” He set his empty glass on a tray as a house-elf passed through.

“The werewolf?” Draco sneered.

Harry gave him a stern look. “If you say yes, you’ll have to treat Remus with respect. He’s like family to me.”

Draco nodded his apology curtly and thought about the offer. He had resigned himself to staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. He didn’t wish to go home to a house full of Death Eaters, and he could always use the Vanishing Cabinet as his excuse to remain at school. The prospect of staying with Harry was enticing, however. “You really want me to come?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “My godfather was the previous owner of the house, and I haven’t been back since he died. It won’t be easy for me, but it would be a lot less difficult if you were there.”

“Potter, I’m flattered,” he said with a hint of sarcasm, but his smile was genuine, and his heart danced happily in his chest. Harry grinned. The boy looked him up and down.

“You dressed up,” he noted in surprise.

“Of course I did. I always look my best, even when no one can see me.”

“So there isn’t anyone you’re trying to impress?”

Draco lifted a brow, acutely aware of the thin line he was walking. “Well, as the only one who’s seen me, are you impressed?”

Harry blushed. “Certainly. As if anyone could stand in the presence of a Malfoy without feeling awed,” he said with a hint of amusement.

Getting an idea, Draco said, “You know, I’d ask why you aren’t dancing, but I assume it’s because you’re so bloody awful at it.”

Harry raised his brows in challenge. “And you’re such an expert, Malfoy?”

“As a matter of fact,” he said, taking Harry’s hand in his and wrapping the other around his waist. The Gryffindor gasped in surprise. “I am.” 

When the boy didn’t protest, Draco pulled him closer, moving them slowly to the beat. As the taller of the two, Draco led. Harry tripped over both of their feet, but the blond didn’t comment. After a while, he asked, “Won’t your date be missing you?” He tried to hide his emotions as he waited for an answer.

“Luna? No, I’m sure she’ll get on without me.”

“Are you two going out?”

Harry barked out a laugh. “Merlin, no. We’re just friends.” Draco wondered why the thought of dating the girl was such an outrageous one.

“Don’t like blonds?” he asked, trying to sound joking.

“Trust me, Draco. Her hair color is not the problem.” He had a funny look in his eyes, but Draco forced his curiosity aside. They went back to dancing in silence. Harry was getting better. They moved almost in sync now.

“This is a lot easier than leading,” Harry said when the next song started.

“Mm.” Draco couldn’t concentrate enough to say more. All his focus was on the feel of the other boy as they danced. Every point of contact tingled with electricity. They seemed to have moved closer since they started, and Harry leaned his forehead against Draco’s shoulder.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Draco breathed. His blood hummed under his skin, and his breath was quicker than normal. He hoped Harry couldn't tell how fast his heart was beating. When he’d gotten the idea to challenge Harry, he hadn’t expected the other boy to follow so willingly. It was like a dream--Harry in his arms, head resting on his shoulder, both of them swaying in time to the music. When the song ended, Draco stepped back reluctantly.

“I should probably get back to the party,” Harry said.

“Yes, the guests will be missing their Golden Boy.” Harry didn’t even react to the nickname.

“I’ll meet up with you outside of King’s Cross Station,” he said, smiling now.

“See you then.”

As Harry walked away, Draco pulled the Cloak over his head. Maybe having a crush on the Boy Who Lived wasn’t the worst thing in the world.


	7. Grimmauld Place

Draco tapped his foot impatiently outside King’s Cross Station. He had told a very excited Pansy and an annoyingly smug Blaise of his Christmas plans the night before. Now, he was starting to wonder if Harry had forgotten or stood him up. When he saw a messy head of black hair, he sighed in relief.

“There you are. I was worried I’d have to spend my break terrorizing muggles for lodging.”

“As much as I’m sure you would have enjoyed that, I’m hoping my place is a better alternative.”

“Only slightly.” 

They grinned at each other. Something had shifted since the party, and it was present in every movement, every look, every smile. Draco couldn’t place his finger on what exactly the change was, but he liked it.

“Harry!” a voice said. They both turned to find a smiling Remus Lupin. The man gave Harry a hug. “How have you been?” He noticed Draco with a look of surprise.

“Remus, Draco is the friend I told you I invited.”

Recovering quickly, the werewolf extended a hand. Draco hesitated a moment, his mind running through his father’s warnings about lycanthropes, but in the end, he shook it. He wasn’t his father, and he didn’t want drama over Christmas. Plus, he had promised Harry he’d give the man his respect. Lupin smiled warmly at him.

“Well, if you two are ready, we’d best be off.” They both grabbed onto an arm and were gone with a pop.

 

They reappeared a second later in a worn down neighborhood, standing directly in front of a complex of buildings. The numbers skipped from eleven to thirteen. Harry pressed a slip of paper into his hand.

“Read this to yourself.” Draco unfolded the parchment without question.

_ The location of the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters is Number 12 Grimmauld Place. _

He looked up in confusion, only to see another building appear between the other two. Harry grinned at Draco’s shock and said, “Come on,” dragging him by the arm. Lupin followed at a distance.

“Harry, what’s the Order of the Phoenix?” Draco asked, holding out the slip of paper.

“It’s a group of witches and wizards fighting against Voldemort.” Draco flinched at the name. Harry held open the door for him, and he stepped into a dark, dusty house.

“Potter, you should really invest in some house-elves.”

“There was one living here, but I sent him to work at Hogwarts. Trust me, we’re better off without him.” Harry started up the stairs. “Our room is on the second floor.” Draco followed, noting the house-elf heads mounted on the walls with discomfort. By the time they dragged their trunks upstairs, Lupin had arrived.

“Harry, once you get situated, I’d like to go through Sirius’ things. Join me?”

“Of course. Be there in a minute.” Harry opened the door to their room, setting his bags by the bed closest to the window. Draco took the one near the door.

“Sirius Black?” Draco clarified. The decor made more sense in context--pureblood oriented, with dark tones and regal accents.

Harry nodded. “My Godfather. He was killed by Death Eaters last year at the Ministry.”

“I know,” Draco murmured. “I heard my relatives discussing it a while back.”

“I found out he was innocent in third year after he escaped Azkaban, and we grew close. I was going to live with him once he was cleared of his charges.” Harry sank onto the bed. “But then I got him killed trying to save his life.” Harry looked up weakly. “He was the only family I had left.”

Draco didn’t say anything as he sat down beside the other boy. He wrapped his arms around Harry like it was the most natural thing in the world. Harry leaned into him just as automatically. It was reminiscent of the moment at the beginning of the year when their roles were reversed. Lupin knocked a few minutes later. Neither boy moved.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” The man watched them as if trying to work out a puzzle.

Harry shook his head, standing up. “No, I’m ready.” They left, Harry shooting a grateful smile back at Draco before exiting.

The blond stood, figuring he might as well take a look around while the other two were away. He felt moisture on his cheek and wondered why he was crying. Then he realized they weren’t his tears, but Harry’s. He hadn’t noticed they were that close. Being near Harry...it was as easy as breathing.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Harry and Remus made their way to the top floor in silence. They passed a room Harry knew must have belonged to Sirius’ brother. The initials R.A.B. were carved into the wood. When they reached Sirius’ bedroom, Remus entered first. Harry took a deep breath before following.

It looked as if it belonged to a teenager. Apparently, Sirius hadn’t redecorated since his time at Hogwarts. Reds and golds touched on every surface, and it was as messy as Harry expected. Posters of Muggle and wizard celebrities alike adorned the walls. A music player sat in the corner. Harry wondered how it worked in a magical home. Perhaps it was charmed. As a maker of the Marauder's Map, he had no doubt Sirius could manage it. The bed was made up nicely, which Harry figured was Molly’s doing. Remus fingered through some of his friend’s things before seating himself on the edge of the bed, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

“It still looks so lived in. Like Siri could walk through the door at any minute.”

Harry nodded, picking up a book on Quidditch. The margins were doodled in, and he imagined it was from Sirius’ time at Hogwarts. He sat down beside Remus to look through the pages. “What was he like when he was younger?”

Remus smiled, losing himself in the memories. “He was full of life and zest. Always loud, with rather dirty thoughts he was far too inclined to share. Siri held the Marauders together. He was wild but also compassionate. He threw himself wholeheartedly into everything, including love. He had a reputation as a player, but in actuality, he was quite the romantic when he cared about someone.” 

Harry felt there was something he was missing, but he couldn’t place a finger on it. “I wish I could have spent more time with him.”

“I know.” Remus smiled sadly. “Imagine how different things would have been if he’d been found innocent all those years ago. He put up a fight for you when it all happened. He would have been an amazing father.” When Harry only nodded again, Remus turned to look at him. “How are you holding up, Harry?”

“Better lately,” he said, realizing it was true. Over the summer, he was barely human. He didn’t want to feel anything because it hurt too much. He felt so much guilt and loss. Now he was talking and laughing again. He felt alive. He smiled a little as he added, “Draco’s helped.”

Remus narrowed his eyes. “I was wondering about that. When did you two become so close?”

“It’s a long story,” Harry said with a laugh. “We’re friends now, though.”

Remus eyed him intently. “I’ve seen the way you act around each other. Am I wrong in guessing there’s something more going on?” Harry blushed and looked up at the man shyly but didn’t comment. “If you have feelings for him, you should tell him. Siri and I made the mistake of hiding how we felt for far too long.”

Harry looked up, eyes wide. “You and Sirius...?”

Remus chuckled. “I thought you knew. Yes, he and I confessed our feelings for each other at the end of seventh year. We didn’t know at the time how few years we would have together. If I could go back and change things, I would have told him as soon as I realized.”

Everything clicked into place. Remus’ words from earlier made a lot more sense now. And if he looked back on his memories, Harry found lots of clues. His joint gifts from Remus and Sirius. The way the years melted away when the two hugged in the Shrieking Shack in third year. Even the nickname ‘Siri’ fit into the puzzle. Harry felt kind of dense for not figuring it out sooner.

“Did anyone else know?”

“I’m sure some guessed, but we never officially told anyone other than Lily, James, and Peter. We figured it was already difficult enough to deal with the werewolf prejudices. It would have been too much to have another thing separating us from the rest of society. We both agreed it was easier to simply keep it quiet.”

Harry nodded in understanding. He’d often thought the same thing when he imagined coming out. He already had to deal with attention for being the Boy Who Lived. Adding anything more to that was a terrifying prospect. But he also didn’t think he could keep it hidden. He pictured living a secret life with the man of his dreams, always trying to keep the rumors quiet, always worried it would get out. He decided then that when he found the person he wanted to spend his life with, he’d come out publicly--get it out to the entire wizarding world all at once.

“Do you love him?” Remus asked.

Harry sighed. “Yes. I tried to deny it at first because we’ve been rivals for so long. But the more time I spent with him, the surer I was it wasn’t just a crush. The thought of spending my life with someone else makes my chest ache.”

Remus smiled, his years showing more than usual. “Then tell him. If you really love him, that’s your only option. You won’t be able to move on unless you know how he feels.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “But I don’t even know if he’s gay. What if he hates me and never talks to me again?”

“Then you’ll be heartbroken, maybe cry, and then you’ll get over it. It might take time, but you will. You know, when I was your age, I spent countless hours trying to tell if Sirius was interested. He was with a new girl nearly every week, and I was certain he was straight as could be. I was resigned to never telling him, sure I couldn’t take the misery of him abandoning me when he found out. Those years were agony. If he hadn’t had the guts to tell me how he felt, I’d still be wondering what might have happened if I’d said something instead of keeping my mouth shut. Don’t make that mistake.”

“And you’re okay with this? I mean, he’s a Malfoy--a Slytherin.”

Remus’ eyes softened. “We aren’t our parents, Harry. Or our House. We change, and make our own choices.” He gestured around the room. “Sirius knew that better than anyone. He was the only Gryffindor in a family of pureblood Slytherins. He was called a blood traitor and a muggle lover, but he remained loyal to his heart. Draco came from much the same background as Siri, only it took him longer to break free of it. I can see how much he’s changed and grown. He isn’t his father. He’s more than that. And I can’t fault you for loving, Harry. It’s what makes us human after all.”

Those words echoed through Harry’s thoughts. Between Remus and Dumbledore’s blessings, he was beginning to accept his feelings himself. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about telling Draco, but at least he no longer felt guilty about the choices of his heart. And he knew he’d have support from Remus if he ever acted on his feelings for the other boy. He wouldn’t be alone.

Harry went back to looking through Sirius’ book. A smile lit his face when he saw a small heart drawn in the corner of the page with three characters written inside:  _ R + S _ .

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

As it was still only around four o’clock when Lupin and Harry came back down, Draco suggested they take a shopping trip.

“Someone has to pick out clothes that fit you,” Draco informed him when Harry asked why they would go shopping. The poorly dressed boy couldn’t argue.

Once Draco explained the location of the nearest wizarding shops--which happened to be at the back of a muggle mall--Harry took over the transportation, purchasing two bus tickets. 

Draco found the bus to be even more offensive than the car Harry’s relatives drove. The air smelled of cigarettes, and the passengers were less than up to par by Draco’s standards. A little girl that got on a stop after them tugged on his pant leg absentmindedly. He glared, but Harry seemed to think it was cute. When Draco felt something sticky on his hands a few minutes later, he let out a disgusted squeal. Harry found it amusing, which made Draco’s glare deepen. Why did Gryffindors have to be so bloody cheerful about everything?

When they arrived, it was Draco’s turn to take charge. He immediately sought out a high-end wizarding shop--after washing his hands, of course--in which each item was tailored specifically for the customer, and everything was designer.

“This seems a little much,” Harry commented.

“Shut up. Fashion is worth any price.” Draco earned a nod of approval from the tailor, who was using a charmed measuring tape and quill to record Harry’s measurements. He was an older man, with a bulge above his belt. Draco was relieved not to recognize him as one of his mother’s tailors. She would certainly be interested to hear who her son was hanging out with, and he was more than happy to keep her in the dark.

“I disagree.”

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter, I will personally pay for your clothes if it will get you to stop wearing those raggedy old bags. They’re an insult to my eyes.”

Harry rolled his own eyes by didn’t protest as he got fitted. Draco pointed things out to the store clerk and gave the verdict each time. Far too many were ‘must-haves’ for Harry’s liking, and the boy complained heavily.

“Draco, these are all in Slytherin colors.” Harry was currently trying on a nice set of deep green robes with silver trim. Even slouching in discomfort, he looked stunning.

“Pardon me if I don’t see the problem with that.”

“I’m a  _ Gryffindor _ .” He waved his hands in the air for emphasis.

“No, you’re a poser. You told me so yourself.” Draco ignored Harry’s glare. “Anyways, they match your eyes.” And they did, wonderfully.

“Shouldn’t I have some variety?”

“Oh, alright. You can wear blue. And maybe  _ some _ red. Definitely not yellow...” Draco went off to find more options.

When they left, Harry had a whole new wardrobe complete with two sets of dress robes (which Harry said was excessive, but Draco claimed entirely necessary). He blanched at the total but paid anyways. Draco was proud of himself for encouraging the purchase of some tight pairs of muggle jeans in addition to the many robes. He rolled his eyes when Harry attempted to carry all the bags, and snapped his fingers. A house-elf appeared and took all but two back to Hogwarts. Draco left enough clothing for the remainder of their vacation--most of which consisted of those aforementioned tight jeans.

“I’m going to do some shopping on my own. There are some things I need to pick up,” Draco said. “I’ll meet up with you in half an hour.”

In all actuality, he needed to find a Christmas gift for Harry, though he had no idea as to what. He thought of jewelry, be he didn’t think Harry would wear it, and the Gryffindor might get the wrong idea.  _ Or the right idea _ , Draco thought wryly. Books seemed too impersonal. They’d just bought enough clothes to last Harry _ at least  _ another year. Sweets weren’t thoughtful enough. Quidditch gear he probably already had. What do you buy for your crush when you don’t want them to know you have a crush, but you do want them to know you care? The thought process was exhausting.

His search was beginning to seem impossible when he passed a pet shop and got a brilliant (and possibly disastrous) idea. But Draco was a gambler when it came to Harry, and he didn’t mind a little risk.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Harry had been wandering in circles since they split up. He needed to find a gift for Draco, but nothing stood out to him yet. He found a couple of interesting Potions texts--or at least a few that didn’t put him to sleep immediately--but none of them felt right. They weren’t personal enough. Clothes were a no-go since Draco had far better taste than Harry and probably wouldn’t wear any of it anyways. He knew from some of their discussions that Draco had a bit of a sweet tooth, but candy didn’t show the amount of care he was going for.

He stopped when he saw a jewelry store. Harry himself didn’t wear much jewelry, but Draco sometimes wore a necklace or a ring. It might be seen as romantic, but Harry didn’t mind much. After his talk with Remus, he was fairly certain he’d tell Draco how he felt soon. What did it matter if the other boy guessed before then? Harry felt certain he’d made the right choice as soon as he stepped in. Now to pick out the perfect piece...

 

They met up an hour later. Harry had the gift tucked into his coat pocket, and he couldn’t help feeling a bit giddy every time he thought about it. Draco didn’t appear to be holding anything, so he must have sent whatever he bought back to the castle, or perhaps Grimmauld.

“What do you want to do now?” Harry asked.

Draco thought about it for a moment before his eyes lit up. “What about a Muggle film in one of those movie theaters?”

Harry agreed excitedly. He’d never been to a theater before, though he’d heard wonderful things about them from Hermione, and he knew Dudley enjoyed going. It was on Harry’s list of things to do in the muggle world, and he was thrilled Draco had suggested it.

They made their way back to the Muggle portion of the mall and got in line to buy tickets. Harry blushed profusely when the couple in front of them bought tickets to some sensual film, imagining for a moment he was on a date with Draco. They decided on a comedy.

Draco spent most of the movie asking what Muggle things were. Harry found it endearing, so he didn’t mind the interruptions. He wondered when even the annoying things Draco did started making him smile. Hermione would call it sweet. He found it rather pathetic. That didn’t stop his heart from warming each time the blond interrupted.

When it ended, both boys were famished. It was a little past eight, and they started looking for dinner options.

“We passed a nice sushi restaurant a ways back,” Draco offered.

“What’s sushi?”

Draco sighed dramatically. “I forgot how uncultured you are. End of discussion, I’m taking you there. Someone must adopt the tedious task of educating you.”

“Oh, come off it, Malfoy. Need I remind you who asked what a toaster was earlier today?”

“Stupid muggle contraption...” Draco muttered. After a moment, they both cracked up. They were stifling giggles when they arrived at the restaurant.

“Table for two, please.” Draco had put his Malfoy Heir mask back on, but his eyes still held a trace of amusement. Harry thought it was unnerving how easily the Slytherin hid his emotions from the world. He was pleased to no longer be in the dark--he could almost always see past the Ice Prince's walls.

They were seated in the very back at a candlelit table. It was rather romantic, and Harry felt his face warm, glad for the dim lighting. Unable to meet Draco’s gaze, he studied the menu, trying to understand the strange foods. It was quickly snatched from his hands. The Slytherin gave him a look that said,  _ I’ll handle it _ . Harry smiled gratefully.

An awkward silence broke out, and he pulled his eyes away once more, this time studying the decor. The room was a dark red, with flowers painted on in black and gold. A fish tank let out a soft glow from along the walls, and the rest of the light was provided either by candles or spherical red lanterns hanging at various heights. When the waitress came by, Draco ordered for both of them. The foreign words rolled off his tongue smoothly, and Harry shivered at the sound. The waitress left, and Draco’s gaze fell on Harry.

“Thank you for inviting me. This is the best holiday break I’ve had in years.”

Harry smiled, surprised at the genuine gratitude. “I’m glad you came.”

Draco took a sip of his water before asking suddenly, “What do you see in your future?”

Harry took a drink from his own glass to give himself time to think through his answer. “Well, I’ve considered becoming an Auror.”

“No professional Quidditch?”

“No, I love Quidditch, but I don’t want it to be my career. Anyways, I imagine I’ll settle down with someone,” he was careful to keep his ‘someone’ gender neutral, “and complete my Auror training.”

"Haven't had enough of saving the world?" Draco snarked. Harry's jaw clenched, but before he could release his frustration, the blond moved on. “Do you want kids?” Harry's anger washed away. It was scary how quickly Draco could ramp up his emotions.

He hadn’t thought about the issue of children since he’d worked out his sexuality. It changed some things of course, but he rather liked the idea of adoption. When the war ended--because it  _ had _ to end someday, even if it didn’t feel like it now--he knew there would be orphans. Perhaps he could save someone from a fate like Tom Riddle’s or his own. 

“Yes, I think so. I haven’t thought much about life after Hogwarts, to be honest. Who knows if I’ll even make it out of the battle alive?” he said, thinking of the Prophecy. “But yes, I think I’d like to adopt.”

“No little scar heads running around?” Draco teased, though he had an odd look in his eyes. Harry couldn’t place it.

“Nope.”  _ Not exactly an option _ . The thought struck him as sad for a moment, but he ignored the ache. “How about you?”

“I’m not sure either. My father wanted me to join the Ministry, but that doesn’t interest me. The only subject I’m passionate about is Potions. I’ve thought about taking over Sev’s old position--or maybe becoming a Medi-Wizard.” 

The thought of Draco becoming a healer struck him as funny. Although it suited the boy he knew now, the image was so unlike the Draco Malfoy everyone else saw. He imagined Ron’s disbelief if he heard about their rival’s aspirations. “As for kids, I’d like a boy and a girl. I was immensely lonely as a child, even with the other pureblood children coming over for parties and the like. I don’t want my kids to suffer that way.” He looked distant, lips twisted into a slight frown. Harry wished he could take away the burdens Draco carried but knew the other boy would only shut down if he tried to comfort him.

Their food arrived then, and Harry turned his attention to the odd delicacies. Draco seemed to be using two sticks to pick up the sushi and dip it in a dark sauce. When he noticed Harry wasn’t eating, he muffled a laugh.

Harry scowled. "Sod off."

Draco was still grinning. “Sorry, I forgot you’re inexperienced. Here, let me help.” He poured some of the brown sauce into a small dish. “Feel free to use your hands. For once, I’ll let the poor manners slide. It’s better to look like a barbarian than to poke an eye out with a chopstick.”

“Wow, Draco,” Harry commented. “You know, I think I’m a bad influence on you.”

“Shut it, Potter.” The boy forced down the corners of his mouth as he mixed something green into Harry’s sauce with a so-called chopstick. When Draco pushed the dish towards him, Harry reached for one of the colorful rolls. He dipped it in the sauce like Draco had, and popped it in his mouth. The burst of flavors made Harry’s eyes widen. “This is amazing!”

Draco smirked. “Now do you see why my tastes are so expensive?”

Harry laughed. “Yes. I might have to make a habit of dining with you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind much. You’re quite the conversationalist.” Harry couldn’t tell if that was sarcasm or not, but flicked a piece of rice at his friend anyways.

 

When they got home, Remus was reading in a chair by the fire. He looked more put together than when Harry had left him, which hopefully meant he was coping well. The man looked up upon their arrival.

“Did you two have fun?”

“Yes, Draco took me out for sushi for the first time.”

“And Harry took me to see a Muggle film.”

Remus smiled before directing his attention to the blond. “Draco, your package is taken care of.”

The Slytherin nodded, ignoring Harry’s questioning look.

“We’re off to bed. See you in the morning, Remus.”

“Goodnight, boys.”

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

“Draco?”

Harry’s voice pulled him from sleep. He blinked into the darkness, trying to pick out green eyes. When he found them, he was surprised to note how bright they were when unblocked by glasses lenses.

“What is it, Potter?” Draco did not like being woken up. He was infamous in Slytherin for hexing people who made any noise before ten on Saturdays.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, and only then did Draco notice he was blinking back unshed tears. “I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about Sirius, and I--” 

He stopped when Draco pulled back the covers to make room for him. The dark-haired boy crawled in without another word, carefully leaving a space between him and Draco. The Slytherin snorted and pulled the other boy into his arms. Harry tensed at first, but then let out a contented sigh.

“Goodnight, Draco.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

As the Gryffindor nuzzled into his chest, Draco wondered at how comfortable Harry was around him. Was it possible he felt the same way as Draco? And how exactly _ did _ Draco feel? When he’d confessed his feelings to Pansy, he was sure it was just a crush. He thought Potter was attractive, and wouldn’t have minded snogging him senseless. But now, with Harry breathing rhythmically in sleep, Draco thought it might be more than that. 

If it were simply lust he felt for the other boy, he wouldn’t be so happy just holding him close to his chest. Draco was  _ cuddling _ , for Merlin’s sake. And he was enjoying it, too. Malfoys didn’t cuddle.

But in that moment, he didn’t care what Malfoys did or didn’t do. He cared about what Draco was doing. And Draco was slowly falling in love with Harry Potter. He breathed in deeply, inhaling Harry’s scent, and fell asleep wrapped protectively around the Boy Who Lived.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Christmas came quicker than usual in Harry’s mind. The days leading up to it were a breeze. They stayed in for the most part, content to read, talk, or play wizard’s chess. It turned out Draco was skilled at the game, and Harry lost every time like he did with Ron. He knew both would be offended to hear how equally matched they were, but he wondered who would win in a game between them. It would definitely be a closer game than the ones played with Harry.

On Christmas morning, Harry woke Draco excitedly. The other boy groggily pulled himself out of bed but didn't curse and grumble as much as usual. Harry had taken to sleeping in Draco’s bed every night after the blond woke him saying, “Potter, I can't get my beauty rest with you thrashing and screaming all night. Get over here before you cost me my dashing looks and cheery attitude.” Harry had snorted at that, but was, needless to say, fond of this arrangement. He didn't have nightmares after that.

They walked downstairs to find owls flying in with gifts, apparently unfooled by the wards. Remus shuffled down shortly after them and left to put on a pot of coffee once they’d exchanged pleasantries. A loud shrieking made them all freeze. Soon, they realized it must have been the portrait, triggered by Tonks’ arrival. Draco shifted uncomfortably when the spunky woman walked in. Harry remembered the two were related on the Black side of the family and wondered at their relationship.

“Harry! Merry Christmas! It's good to see you.” She pulled him into a tight embrace. “How have you been?”

“Great, thanks.”

Tonks turned to Draco with an almost motherly smile. “Merry Christmas, Couz. Glad to have another relative on the side of the light.”

Draco nodded stiffly but seemed relieved at her reaction. Harry supposed he was predicting worse from the Auror.

“Remus!” Tonks gave him a quick peck on the cheek. The two boys exchanged knowing looks. “Well, are we just going to stand around all day? I, for one, was hoping to unwrap some presents.” The others chorused their agreement and gathered around the tree.

Harry was happy to unwrap his annual Weasley sweater first, pulling it on over his pajamas. The gift made him curious as to how his friends were doing, but he found he didn't wish he was with them. He smiled a small smile at Draco, who was unwrapping his own gifts. He wondered what his friends would think if they knew who he was here with. They were understanding of his need to spend Christmas at Grimmauld, but he figured they’d be less understanding of his “need” to spend it with Draco. It made him sad they didn't know the Slytherin the way he did. Part of him, however, liked that Draco was his and only his.

From Hermione, he received two books--one on Auror training and one he quickly tucked away about embracing your sexual orientation. Ron gave him some chocolate frogs and a book on Seeker strategies with some posters of famous players inside. Fred and George sent a few samples of their newest products, and a new broom maintenance kit came in from Ginny.

After thanking Remus and Tonks for the top-of-the-line, self-correcting quill they gave him, he turned to the final gift in his pile. As he moved closer, he heard a soft whispering coming from it. The box was large and felt like glass when he tapped it softly. It was wrapped in green paper with phoenixes soaring around on it. There was no tag, but he hoped it was from Draco. He turned to the boy with a raised brow.

“Well, open it, you bloody wanker,” was the response. He grinned and tore through the paper. Beneath the thin wrapping was a glass cage holding a small green snake with a silver underbelly.

_ “Hello there,” _ Harry hissed in greeting.

_ “Hello, human. You speak my tongue. Did you bring me any mice?” _

Harry laughed.  _ “I don't have any on me right now, but I’m sure we could find you some. What’s your name?” _

_ “Ouro. And you are?” _

_ “Harry Potter.” _

“I wouldn't have gotten you anything if I thought it would make you ignore me,” Draco mock grumbled.

Harry tackled him playfully, landing on top of the squirming boy. “Is that enough attention for you?”

Draco glared up at him, face flushed. Harry felt his heart racing and his eyes flicked towards the Slytherin’s lips, slightly parted as he breathed.

“Potter, stop this childish rough-housing at once.”

But Harry didn't move, and Draco didn't make him. Their breath mingled between them, and Harry realized what a compromising position they were in. He was on all fours, knees on either side of Draco’s now still body. His hands pinned the other boy’s arms above his head. Emerald eyes locked on gray ones. It would be so easy to lean down and kiss him...Draco cleared his throat. Harry blushed and removed himself from the other boy, feeling as embarrassed as ever. Draco didn't comment, sitting back up with as much decorum as ever.

“Thanks, Draco. I love her,” Harry said once he’d recovered. Draco nodded, not making eye contact, but he looked pleased. “Open yours.” Harry handed him the small package he’d wrapped by hand. Draco met his eyes and smiled.

“Thanks.”

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Draco took the gift, mind still whirring. When Harry tackled him, he was desperately trying not to show how much the other boy was affecting him. He knew his face was flushed, and his lower region throbbed almost painfully. Harry’s eyes were so bright, and for a moment, Draco thought he was going to kiss him. But then he panicked and made that pitiful noise in the back of his throat. Hopefully it sounded as though he was coughing or something equally respectable. Draco sat up as regally as he could to distract from his raging emotions and hormones. Now he was almost physically recovered, but his hand shook as he tore through the wrapping.

His other gifts were wonderful. His mother sent him a new set of dragon hide gloves and boots. Crabbe and Goyle sent various sweets, though Draco could have sworn the best flavors had already been removed from the Bertie Botts containers. Honestly, their skill at consuming food seemed to be the only thing placing them in Slytherin. Severus gave him a rare potions text and a steel cauldron Draco needed for the more complex potions he’d been trying lately. Blaise and Pansy seemed to have teamed up against him, both sending various Harry Potter biographies and a scrapbook of all the Daily Prophet mentions of the Golden Boy. Draco tried to be annoyed but found himself laughing instead. Harry shot him a curious look which Draco pointedly ignored.

The Slytherin couldn't deny he was looking forward to Harry’s gift. He was pleased the dark-haired boy liked the snake he picked out, and secretly found Parseltongue to be a major turn-on. He peeled back the last bit of paper so he held a thin, flat box in his hands. A gasp escaped his lips as he removed the lid. Inside rested a teardrop-shaped moonstone pendant. A silver dragon curled around the left side and looped around at the top to hook onto the thin chain. The stone glistened, exuding a bluish silver glow.

“Harry, it's beautiful.” He was stunned. The gift was thoughtful, tasteful, and entirely Draco. He knew they were friends now, but this was far more intimate than he was expecting. He felt warm all over, and couldn't take his eyes off of it.

“It reminded me of you,” Harry said shyly.

“Thank you.”

 

Once all the presents were unwrapped, Harry took off upstairs to write thank you notes to his friends. Draco was about to do the same when Tonks pulled him aside.

“Hey, Kiddo. Walk with me?” He followed her with a nod.

She led him into a room with an intricate tapestry on one of the walls. It appeared to be the Black family tree. He quickly found his mother and himself. Tonks was touching a burnt section with a sad look on her face. “My mother was disowned when she married my father. A muggle. Though I'm sure Narcissa told you that.”

“She did,” he confirmed.

“I'm not sure where you fall regarding pride in blood purity, but I wanted you to see the others who made the brave choice you're making now.”

Draco laughed bitterly. “I'm not brave. If it weren't for Harry’s help, I would have joined the Dark Lord out of fear.”

Tonks smiled. “It doesn't matter the reason. You made the choice, and you made the right one.” She gestured broadly at the wall. “The traditional beliefs held by our family have led to more exclusion and bigotry than love. The few who chose to break the cycle were disowned. I felt like you should know that should that happen to you, you're not alone. My mother did it. Sirius did it. And if your picture is someday removed from the family tree, it’s not something to be ashamed of.”

Draco nodded. He hadn't thought about what his changed allegiance would do to his family. In all honesty, he hadn't even thought about the fact that he was in league with Dumbledore, the man his father always taught him to hate. There were so few options, and he’d chosen the best one, but it was only hitting him now.

They embraced, which was very un-Malfoy, but it felt right, so Draco didn't mind.

“I'm proud of you, Couz.”

Maybe his situation wasn't perfect, but for the first time, he realized he was happy. He was no longer straddling a line between family loyalty and his own morality. He had chosen a side--his side--and it was a relief to feel whole. To feel completely Draco, without the pressures of the Dark Lord and his father to alter him. He was happy.

 

Christmas break was over far too quickly for Draco’s liking. The final days were spent much the same as the first few. It was relaxing, and Draco found he enjoyed the werewolf’s company as well as Harry’s. Tonks stayed too, residing in Remus’ room, which Harry and Draco found to be very amusing. The four stayed up late talking every night, though they split up more during the day. Harry carried Ouro around almost constantly, hissing conversations that cracked him up. After a day of this, Draco demanded he be taught some basic phrases in Parseltongue. This turned out to be rather difficult, as Parseltongue is generally not a teachable language, but Draco was proud to find he knew many of the basics by the holiday’s end.

As they packed their trunks to head back to Hogwarts, Draco fought off a wave of sadness. It wasn’t that he’d had the most eventful break, or that the house was anything special. He missed Hogwarts and his fellow Slytherins. But he mourned the loss of Harry’s company.

Once they returned, he’d only see the Gryffindor at their weekly Vanishing Cabinet sessions and in Potions class, the second of which barely counted since they’d be strictly ‘rivals’ for show. He’d miss their easy conversation, and just existing comfortably in a shared space. He’d miss sleeping in the same bed, because although he suggested it to help Harry, the arrangement had stopped Draco’s nightmares too. In the beginning, it was easy to keep up their enmity in public. Now, the idea of putting on his mask and building up the barriers between them seemed suffocating. They were in a safe place, and soon, they would leave it. He wasn't sure he was ready for things to go back to normal yet.

Once his things were packed, Draco descended the stairs. Harry and Tonks were saying their goodbyes while Remus waited at the door. When she saw Draco, Tonks pulled him into a hug as well.

“Remember what I said, alright Couz?”

“Yes. Thanks for everything.” The woman smiled at him.

“Ready to take off?” Remus asked. The two boys nodded, and they departed from Grimmauld Place.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Harry wasn't ready to say goodbye to Draco, but they both knew going back to Hogwarts marked the end of whatever they had over break. He noticed happily that Draco never took off the moonstone pendant. Ouro was likewise always curled around Harry. The snake was small enough to weave through the fingers on one hand, so he was easily portable. They had agreed to say it was from Remus since Harry couldn't exactly tell his friends Malfoy had bought him a Christmas present.

He wished he knew Hermione and Ron would take it well, since sneaking around all the time was making him feel guilty. He wasn't too worried about Hermione, though recollections of Draco’s muggleborn slurs might make her uncomfortable for a while. Ron was the one he was concerned about. Harry knew his temper and stubborn biases would make convincing him a far more difficult task. It seemed unfair that Draco’s friends were already aware of their situation, though he supposed the Slytherin’s uncharacteristic honesty earned it. The fact that Draco had opened up to his friends before Harry only doubled his guilt.

“Thanks again for inviting me,” Draco said as they stood outside of King's Cross Station.

Harry grinned. “Ready to pretend to hate each other again?”

The blond looked sad for a moment, but quickly covered it up with a smirk. “Who says I’m pretending?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “See you in Potions, Malfoy.”

“Likewise,  _ Potter _ .”

And with that, they went in separate directions to find their Housemates.


	8. Hogsmeade?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you asking me on a date, Potter?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been super excited to post this chapter! It's not weird to fangirl over your own writing...shhhhhhh...Anyways, hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it ;)

Things were not going well for Harry. As a rule, things did not go well for Harry in the second half of the school year, but this time his downward spiral came quicker. In the week since he’d gotten back from Grimmauld, he had failed to retrieve the memory from Slughorn. His technique of mimicking Tom Riddle’s conversation from years earlier didn’t work the way he had hoped. Now that he thought about it, that plan was very flawed indeed. The man was wary of him since then, making the task that much harder. It seemed like a lost cause, and he felt guilty at failing Dumbledore. The event pulled him into a depression, and he found himself becoming grumpier than usual.

Then Ron accidentally consumed a love potion meant for Harry from Romilda Vane. Lavender and Hermione were upset, and it ended with a break up for the former, but a mended relationship for the latter. Harry was pleased to have his best friends acting genial again, after around a month of fighting. That was the only highlight of returning to Hogwarts as far as he could tell. He missed Remus, and, well, he missed Draco...a lot. Ouro was a constant companion, as the snake reminded him of the blond. He spent the entire week waiting for their Friday night meeting, but it ended up making him even more depressed. While they were apart, he’d forgotten just how nice it was to be in the other boy’s company. Reuniting reminded him, making the sting of separation fresh.

It wasn’t until the end of their session that they even found the spell to fix the Cabinet-- _Harmonia Nectere Passus_ \--and it turned out it wasn’t nearly as easy as a simple ‘repairo’. Each casting was draining, and even with them working in tandem, they spent more time resting than doing magic. In other words, their progress was regrettably slow.

Currently, he was sitting in the common room with Ron and Hermione. Harry returned from his ‘study session’ around 10:45, and now they were settled down by the fire. It was a little after eleven, but the three weren’t concerned. They were celebrating their repaired friendship, and it was a Friday, so they wouldn’t have classes for tomorrow anyway. Harry found himself feeling happy for the first time since getting back. He stroked Ouro absentmindedly.

“How was your Christmas, Ron?” Hermione asked. She had a textbook out, but it was clear she wasn’t reading it. For once, her attention was entirely focused elsewhere. Harry had a feeling he knew where and why, as she was blushing nervously. It was ridiculous that neither could tell the other was crazy for them. Neither was good at hiding their feelings, and Hermione was known for her observant nature. Perhaps love worked differently, since it had taken him ages to figure out he had fallen for Draco. He supposed it would be even harder to know if someone liked him, since he could barely figure out his own emotions.  

“Great! I apologized to Ginny, though I’m still not happy about Dean...” Ron trailed off, scowling. “Anyways, Fred and George came back, along with Bill and Fleur. Mum still hates her--well, most of the family does--but I think she’s brilliant.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Of course you do, Ronald.” Harry snickered. He was sure that wasn’t a sound he usually made. Slytherin exposure, perhaps? The thought didn’t terrify him as much as it once would have. “How was your holiday, Harry?”

He smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at all the memories. He tried to focus on the aspects that didn’t involve Draco. It was a harder task than he imagined. “Wonderful. I think visiting Grimmauld really helped me move on, you know?” They nodded their understanding. “Remus seemed to be doing a lot better by the end of the week.” Harry grinned, realizing he hadn’t told them what he found out yet. “Also, Remus told me he and Sirius were together since seventh year.”

“Huh,” Ron said. “Makes sense.” He seemed to be going through the same list of missed clues as Harry had the week before. Hermione looked thrilled. She gave Harry a knowing look that seemed to say, _You’ve got a gay role model, isn’t this lovely?,_ which he returned with a smile.

“I think he’s finally moving on. Tonks joined us, and she stayed in Remus’ room.” They dissolved into a fit of laughter.

Their conversation digressed into classwork and gossip, but after a while, Ron asked, “Doesn’t it seem like Malfoy’s being less...I dunno, evil this year?”

“Well, if punching my face in is considered benevolent, then sure,” Harry responded.

“I just mean he isn’t taunting us as much as usual.”

“Maybe he’s finally grown up,” Hermione suggested with a shrug.

“Are you mental? Malfoy? We _are_ thinking about the same slimy Slytherin git, aren’t we?”

Harry couldn’t help but feel that he and Ron _were_ thinking about different Malfoys. It was a strange thought--that two people could know the same person but see them entirely differently. He wished he could share _his_ Draco with his friends, but knew there was no way to show them who he really was, short of using a Pensieve. Somehow he didn’t think Dumbledore would find his reasons for borrowing it very convincing.

“Honestly, Ron. You can’t expect these childish rivalries to continue throughout your whole lives. Perhaps Malfoy just realized that sooner and decided it was time to grow up.”

Hermione’s words lifted Harry’s spirits. Maybe she wouldn’t be as opposed to Draco as he thought. Ron on the other hand...Harry wouldn’t hold his breath.

 _“Malfoy is the one who tries to speak with me, yes?”_ Ouro hissed softly.

_“Yes, I call him Draco.”_

_“Why do humans have so many names?”_

Harry laughed softly.

“That’s bloody creepy, mate,” Ron said, gesturing at him and his snake.

“I think it’s wonderful, Harry. Remus must have thought it good for you to have an outlet for your talent.”

Harry smiled, but wished he could give Draco credit for the gift. Ouro was helpful--both by giving him someone to talk to who wouldn’t judge him or share his secrets, and because it helped him come to terms with his dark side, however cheesy it sounded. He spent so long fearing Parseltongue after everyone freaked out in second year that he never really got to appreciate it. There were a lot of things he never appreciated because of prejudices he hadn’t questioned.

 

An hour later, Harry and Ron were in their beds, both staring up at the canopies above them. Harry fidgeted with his covers nervously.

“Ron?”

“Yeah, mate?”

“I’m gay.”

There was a pause.

“You like guys?”

“Yes.”

Another pause.

“Alright.”

Harry sat up, looking for his friend in the dark. “That’s all?”

“Well, sure. As long as you don’t try to kiss me...” he trailed off with a laugh.

Harry grinned. “You never know.” Ron chucked a pillow at him. “Seriously though, thank you.”

They sat in silence for a while. “I like Hermione.”

“Do you now?” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“It wouldn’t be...weird for you...if we were to go out, right?”

“No, Ron. That would be the biggest relief of my life. I’m tired of watching you two make circles around each other.”

Ron let out a heavy breath. “Good. Because I think I’m going to ask her.”

Harry smiled. “I’m glad.”

“Is there, er, anyone you fancy?”

“Um, well...yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really, no.”

“That’s cool.” More silence. “Hogsmeade weekend,” Ron reminded him, changing the subject. The comment started Harry’s thoughts whirring.

“Do you two mind going alone? Dumbledore wants me to come in for another session tomorrow.” The lie tasted sour in his mouth, but the benefits of his deceit would be well worth it. Sending his friends out on their own might help them wisen up to their feelings. Meanwhile, he had plans...and they weren’t with Dumbledore.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Draco was watching an unfortunate display by Crabbe and Goyle at breakfast. Pansy and Blaise were talking about their plans for Hogsmeade, and as Draco didn't have any, he wasn't nearly as peppy. Blaise was taking Seamus to the Three Broomsticks, and Pansy was going with some Ravenclaw seventh year. Even _Millicent_ had a date with Susan Bones. Draco might have even gone with that Hufflepuff he was so desperate. When a blindingly white owl swooped towards him, he felt relieved that he’d at least have a distraction from his loneliness. He didn't care if the note was Harry cancelling their Friday meet-up this week, as long as it gave him something to respond to. What he was not expecting was a solution to his problem.

_Hogsmeade? -H_

Pansy’s squeal reminded him he wasn't physically alone. She cast her usual silencing wards and turned to him excitedly. “You really _have_ been asked on a date by Harry Potter!”

“It's not a date,” Draco insisted, though he wanted beyond reason to believe it was.

“Well, what is it then?”

He didn't know the answer to that. Ignoring Pansy’s question, he wrote out a quick response. He only hoped it sounded sarcastic enough to hide his true curiosity.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Harry bit his lip. He didn't know how Draco would receive the proposal. Harry had left it mostly up to the imagination so he couldn't be blamed for any inferences. Hermione watched him out of the corner of her eye with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. When Hedwig swept back, he took the note from her talon and read it to himself.

_Are you asking me on a date, Potter? -D_

Harry’s heart raced in his chest. He could easily send back an affirmative and he wouldn't have to deal with bearing the secret for much longer. But then, he also might lose his friendship with who was slowly becoming one of his favorite people. He could almost hear the sarcasm dripping off of the note. Harry scribbled a response and sent it off with Hedwig.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

_You wish, Malfoy. Meet you outside the Shrieking Shack? -H_

Draco tried to hide his disappointment, but found he was looking forwards to seeing Harry in spite of it. Pansy wilted at the note, but Draco stood to get ready.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Harry spent far too long deciding what to wear. Apparently owning nice clothes didn't help his fashion sense. He tried desperately to remember which things Draco paired together. In the end, he chose muggle jeans--that he complained were too tight while they were shopping but now loved--and one of the many green shirts Draco picked out. He put wizarding robes over the top, though they were a tad nicer than his school ones, and finished off the look with his cloak. He didn't even bother with his hair.

 

“Harry Potter has come to visit Dobby!”

Harry grinned, happy to see the little elf. “Hi, Dobby. I was wondering if you could prepare a picnic basket for Draco and I--”

“Master Draco?” he squeaked excitedly.

“Yes, we’re going to Hogsmeade together, and I was hoping you could put something together for us.”

“Dobby would be happy to help Harry Potter woo Master Draco.”

“No, that's not what I--”

“Dobby will be back with your basket in a moment.”

Harry sighed. Even if Dobby was right, he didn't like the idea that he was being so obvious. Was he wearing a sign on his back that said ‘I’m head over heels for Draco Malfoy’? He honestly wouldn't be surprised.

A few minutes later, Dobby scurried back with a basket almost as big as him. “Here is Harry Potter’s basket, sir.”

He eyed it suspiciously, but thanked the elf anyways. If he opened it and a romantic song started playing or a mariachi band jumped out, he’d die of mortification. Hopefully Dobby wouldn't try something so obvious. With everything ready, Harry went to meet up with the others to take off for Hogsmeade.

 

Hidden under his Invisibility Cloak since he was supposed to be with Dumbledore, Harry followed behind Ron and Hermione until they entered Hogsmeade. After that, he strolled for a while on his own. He still had sweets left over from Christmas and was excited about seeing Draco, so he didn't feel the need to wander into any shops. It was chilly, but not cold, and Harry was glad he’d worn his new winter cloak. The air was crisp, and the sun was out. It was a perfect day for their not-date.

When he arrived in the spot outside the Shrieking Shack, he noticed the grass was frosted over. Thankfully, Dobby had the foresight to pack a blanket. Harry spread it out and found that a heating charm had been placed on it. He sat down on the thick fabric and looked out at the Shrieking Shack. His thoughts drifted to Sirius, and he was lost in thought when Draco came up behind him.

“Having a picnic, are we? Isn’t that rather Hufflepuff?” Draco drawled, leaning against a nearby tree.

Harry snorted. “Sit down, you prat.”

The blond raised a brow, but seated himself so he was next to Harry but could still look at him. “So, what’s the occasion?”

Harry fluttered his lashes. “I missed you, Drakie.”

Draco looked affronted. “Where did you get that infernal nickname?”

“Heard it from Parkinson when I came to the Dungeons for our Friday night meetup. You hear a lot of interesting things when under an Invisibility Cloak.”

“Don’t ever use it again, or I’ll hex you into oblivion, Potter.”

Harry smiled sweetly. “But Drakie...” The Slytherin’s glare made him snicker.

He took off his outer wear so he was left in only his muggle clothing. Draco did the same. The blond definitely had a talent for picking out tight jeans. Harry wondered how he got them on. Then he let himself think for a moment about getting them off...

“Potter, while your silent company is preferable to your normal chatter, I didn’t come to get ogled at.” Harry blushed and looked away. “Why did you invite me? The Golden Trio going through a rough patch?”

“What, is it so hard to believe that I enjoy having you around?” Harry reached into the basket, trying not to let on just _how_ much he enjoyed it. He was relieved to find that Dobby had packed sandwiches. Casual enough.

“Of course not. My company is impeccable. I was merely wondering why you weren’t off with an adoring fan discussing your heroics.”

In all Harry’s daydreams about Draco, he had almost forgotten what an arse he was. “Though it may be hard for you to believe, Malfoy, I don’t spend my time bragging about myself. That sounds more like a certain Slytherin I know.”

Draco wasn’t even ruffled at the quip. “Well, I thought you’d at least have found yourself a girlfriend amongst your fanbase.”

Harry bristled. They were toeing a dangerous line. “Clearly you haven’t found yourself one either, since you agreed to meet me here. What happened to Parkinson?” He distantly noticed how ridiculous it was to be fighting over accusations of not having a girlfriend. He was _gay_ , for Merlin’s sake. That didn’t stop him from wanting to beat Malfoy, whatever the situation.

Draco laughed. “Pansy? We’re not together.” Harry blinked. He was sure he could get a rise out of the other boy--had thought they were competing. But Draco seemed genuinely amused. Harry wondered if becoming friends had made their banter lose its sting. Or perhaps he hadn’t hit the sore spot he was going for. Apparently, Draco’s relationship with Pansy was purely platonic. The thought made him feel jittery.

“You sure act like it.”

Draco let out a snort. “Well, we Slytherins are wonderful actors.” Harry wondered why they would want to act like they were together. Was it some sort of bet? A weird game? His curiosity made him feel restless. “Anyway, she’s not exactly my type.”

“Into blondes?” He fought the urge to touch his own hair self-consciously.

The Slytherin laughed. “Trust me, Potter, her hair color is not the problem.” The statement was reminiscent of Harry’s at the Christmas Party, and he wondered if Draco meant the same thing by it. His heart thrummed hopefully. “What about you? Dating the Weaslette?”

Harry choked. “Why does everyone think Ginny and I are going out?”

Draco eyed him. “You’re not, then? I thought perhaps you had a Weasley fetish.”

“Gross. She’s like a sister to me. Despite the fact that if I _did_ have a ‘Weasley fetish’ I’d be far more interested in Charlie than Ginny--” Harry broke off, eyes wide as he realized his slip. He could have sworn Draco gasped.

“What did you say?”

“Er...I said, um, that, well...”

Draco turned to face him fully, meeting his eyes with a gaze like fire. “Potter, are you gay?” Silver met emerald in a sort of standoff. Harry cursed himself mentally. How could he have been so stupid?

“Yes,” he squeaked, nearly quaking under the intensity of that gaze. He wished he could have just come out on his own terms--confidently--instead of turning into a child and quivering like he was admitting to stealing cookies.

It was then that he noticed that Draco wasn’t moving. He was inches from Harry’s face, breathing quickly through slightly parted lips. His blond hair wasn’t gelled down like it usually was, and instead fluttered softly in the breeze. Harry felt his own breath coming quicker, and found his eyes locked once more on Draco’s lips. But when he glanced up, the Slytherin’s eyes were glued to _his_ lips. And then they pressed them together. It was a chaste kiss, and both pulled away after a moment, but Harry’s entire body felt like it was on fire. He looked into those silver eyes, burning with lust equal to his own.

“Draco, are you...” He cleared his throat, his voice like a rasp in his ears. “Are _you_ gay?”

“Merlin, yes...”

And then they were kissing again. Harry’s tan fingers wound through blond hair, pulling the other boy closer. After a moment, Draco’s hands found their way into those dark locks. Harry shyly ran his tongue along the Slytherin’s lip, requesting entrance. The other boy granted it with a soft moan.

Harry felt alive in a way he never had before. Their teeth clashed, and they bumped noses, but it didn’t matter. The kiss was perfect in its imperfection. Draco moved against Harry desperately, like maybe he’d wanted this for as long. When they finally broke away, they simply stared at each other in shock. And then they started laughing.

“I can't believe we didn't do that sooner,” Draco finally said.

“And you wanted to? Kiss me, I mean?” Harry asked, still disbelieving.

“No, it was a poorly executed sneeze.” The Gryffindor furrowed his brows. “ _Yes,_ Potter. I've wanted to kiss you since at least December.” He paused. “Though Pansy claims I've had a crush on you since first year.”

“ _First year?_ ”

“Relax, I didn’t say she was right.” They continued to stare at each other. Finally, Draco broke his gaze with a blush. He kept his aristocratic mask on, but his true emotions slipped through. “I’d like a sandwich, please.”

Harry smiled and passed him the basket. His brain kept telling him this was all a dream--that he couldn’t truly be this lucky. The Ice Prince of Slytherin had thawed beneath his kiss. What an insane concept. Whether Draco loved him or not was insignificant in this moment. Because they had more than Harry ever thought possible. A starting point. And God, was it wonderful.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Draco found himself fighting a ridiculous grin that threatened to take over his face. He had kissed Harry. And Harry had kissed him back. His heart was still pounding and he didn’t dare make eye contact for fear of his emotions showing through. He bit into his sandwich, focusing on the flavor blend. It seemed to be tomato, arugula, and mozzarella, and it was quite good.

“Ouro misses you,” Harry said after a while.

Draco looked up. _Fuck_. Those green eyes caught his and he couldn’t look away. They seemed to stare through him, burning him up from the inside. “You should bring him by sometime. I’d like to practice my Parseltongue.”

 _Shit._ Why had he said that? Now he’d have to deal with his raging emotions even more. Hearing Harry speak in Parseltongue made his knees go weak. The rough, erotic hissing made Draco’s head spin, and it would be impossible to hide the effect it had on him for long.

Part of him realized he no longer had to hide his attraction to the Gryffindor, since clearly it was mutual, but another part of him still found it to be a well-guarded secret. He wasn’t exactly good at opening up about his feelings, as Pansy and Blaise knew well. Even when others knew about them, it was hard to break the habit of secrecy and denial.

“Really? I’d like that...er, Ouro would, I mean.” Harry looked rather flustered, and Draco couldn’t help but laugh.

“Could you say something in Parseltongue?” he asked shyly. _Shut the fuck up,_ his mind chided. He was losing control of his mouth, and in the current situation, that could be quite dangerous indeed.

“Sure.” He proceeded to say something in a low hiss. Draco fought a shiver. Harry noticed and quirked a brow.

“Parseltongue kink, Malfoy?” he said with a smirk.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco scoffed, pretending he hadn’t reacted at all. While his filter was out of control, he could train his features into nonchalance as easily as ever. “What did you say?”

The dark-haired boy flushed. “Er, I said I’d like to kiss you again.”

Draco blinked.

And then they were kissing once more. The blond decided he quite liked awkward, loose-lipped Harry. Apparently, one could find out very interesting information, and the Slytherin planned to utilize it to the highest potential. The afternoon went by understandably quickly.

When he and Harry finally departed, they didn’t speak, and simply went their separate ways. Draco found Pansy walking with Theodore Nott--apparently the date with the Ravenclaw didn’t go well. She immediately noticed a shift in her friend’s manner and told Theo she’d catch him later before pulling Draco into Madame Puddifoot’s. She quickly got them to a table and grinned at him.

“Spill.”

Draco tried to keep his cool, looking at the menu with his usual Malfoy air. “Harry and I had a picnic by the Shrieking Shack.”

He felt more than saw Pansy’s brow lift. “And?”

“And nothing.”

“Draco, darling. I know you better than that. You’re practically glowing! Tell Auntie Pansy what happened.”

He finally looked up and began counting on his fingers. “One, don’t ever call yourself that again. It’s creepy. Two, I always glow. I’m Draco Malfoy. And three...” He trailed off for dramatic effect. Again, he was Draco fucking Malfoy. “There may have been some kissing involved.”

Pansy squealed. “I knew it!” She stood, ran around to give him a hug, before sitting back down again. The other customers looked at her with vague interest. Draco rolled his eyes, but was mentally cheering just as enthusiastically. “How was it?” Draco shrugged, sealing his lips with an invisible key. Pansy slapped him on the arm. “Not a chance, darling. Details!”

He couldn’t help the giggle that left his mouth. His father would be so ashamed. “It was bloody fantastic! He did this wonderful thing with his tongue...”

Later, he would never admit to having this conversation, but secretly, he loved telling Pansy about it. She gushed at exactly the right parts, and shared his enthusiasm brilliantly. They walked back to school, tickling each other and giggling. He was such a girl, but that comparison had never bothered him much. At least girls have good taste in fashion. And if it meant he could giggle freely after kissing the love of his life, then he was sure as hell okay with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I'll be in Europe until the 15th, so I'll do my best to post consistently, but there's a chance finding wifi will be an issue. Fingers crossed!


	9. Felix Felicis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In London today! Took all day to find wifi to post this lol. Hope ya like it!

Harry woke to the familiar sight of the Hospital Wing ceiling. He shouldn’t even be surprised anymore. He woke here nearly as often as in his own bed. What happened this time? He vaguely remembered a Quidditch accident involving McLaggen, but he couldn’t be sure.

The sheets were loose around him, and a thin sheen of sweat coated his body. A nightmare must have awoken him. He winced when he tried to sit up, and quickly collapsed again. His head throbbed like crazy, and his vision was spotted and blurry. Hands fumbled for his glasses, and then he could see properly. A groan escaped his lips.

“Ah, Mr. Potter,” said Madam Pomfrey, pushing through the curtains and pouring a potion into a large glass. She handed it to him. The color was deep purple and it seemed to move slightly. He eyed it with distaste. “Oh, drink up already. Honestly, with how often you’re in here, you’d think you could swallow a simple headache reliever easily enough.”

“What...what happened?” he croaked.

“Another Quidditch injury. Why they allow children to play such a dangerous game is beyond me...” she tutted. The woman took the glass once he’d drained it--with only a small amount of writhing, he was proud to say. “Well, that should relieve some of the pain, but you’ll have to stay here for the night to rest up.”

“Has anyone come to see me?”

“Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley tried to visit earlier, but I sent them away. They’ll probably be back after dinner.”

Harry nodded, trying to ignore the pain that shot through his skull. It seemed to ebb as the seconds passed, which he attributed to the potion. Once Madam Pomfrey felt he was stable, she exited. Another figure burst through the curtains only a second later. Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

“Draco?”

The blond quickly sat himself on the edge of the bed, biting his lip in what looked like...concern? Since their kiss on Saturday, they hadn’t spoken outside of Potions. Harry didn’t know what to make of their relationship anymore. They shot each other small smiles across the Great Hall, but everything was otherwise the same as before. He worried it hadn’t meant as much to Draco as it did to him.

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were injured.”

“And? I get injured all the time.”

He rolled his eyes. “Merlin, Potter, if you want me to leave, just say it. It’s not like I enjoy sitting in the Hospital Wing. _You_ seem to, however...”

“No! Don’t leave.” He knew he sounded desperate, but at the moment it didn’t bother him. “It’s just...you’ve never visited me before.” Harry tried to hide the pleasure that thrummed through him at the thought of Draco caring for him. It was still so surreal--the thought that his feelings might be returned.

“We’ve never been boyfriends before.”

Harry’s eyes widened a second before Draco’s as the blond realized what he said. “Boyfriends?”

He blushed and looked away. “That’s not what I meant, Potter.”

Harry smirked slightly, his pain almost entirely gone now. “And what did you mean?”

“Oh, shut up.” Draco turned back and took Harry’s hand in his. “You’re injured, and you’re my friend. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Harry pretended to be deep in thought. “You know, I think I liked the first answer better.”

Draco looked taken aback. “What?”

“I like the sound of being your boyfriend. Are you interested?”

The blond pulled Harry’s hand to his lips, softly kissing his palm. “Yes. I think I rather like the sound of that as well.”

“Brilliant. As my boyfriend, it’s only expected that you kiss me to make the pain go away.”

Draco smirked. “Doctor’s orders?”

“Mmm...” That was all he could say, as he quickly found a better use for his mouth. This kiss was gentler than their previous ones--less passionate, and more affectionate. Draco carefully explored his mouth, cradling his neck gently. Harry clung to the other boy, pulling him into a half embrace. He quickly found himself short of breath, and gasped when they finally broke away...at the sound of Madam Pomfrey’s shriek.

“Mr. Malfoy! What are you doing to my patient?”

Harry blushed wildly, but Draco simply stepped back, a cool mask on his face. “Emotional support.”

The woman looked between them incredulously. Apparently she wasn’t used to such displays. Or perhaps it was simply the identities of those involved that shocked her. Soon, she recovered enough to remember her duty, and shooed Draco out of the curtains. “That is quite enough ‘emotional support’ for one day.” The Slytherin winked at Harry. “Out!”

Harry fought off the laughter that threatened to take hold. When Pomfrey turned to face him again, he sobered. “Would you mind...not mentioning that to anyone? We haven’t exactly told our friends yet.”

She nodded once, still looking rather overwhelmed. “Now, no more excitement for you. I want you to get at least an hour’s rest before dinner ends. I’ll have more potions for you when you wake.”

When Harry curled up to sleep, he thought warmly back to his nights back at Grimmauld when he slept in Draco’s arms. At the time, he thought he was simply benefiting from the other boy’s concern, but now he smiled as he realized how Draco played off his nightmares in order to pull him close. It was a nice thought to drift off to.

“Honestly, Ron, McLaggen isn’t worth it.”

“But ‘Mione! Look what he did to Harry.”

“Madam Pomfrey says he’ll be fine. And I’m sure McGonagall will punish him enough.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it...”

Harry peeled his eyelids open with a sleepy smile. “Hi, guys.”

“Harry!” Hermione sat on his bed. He noted it was the spot Draco was sitting in earlier. Ron leaned forwards in his chair.

“How are you feeling, mate?”

“Better. My head hurts like hell, though.”

Hermione’s lips twitched into a frown. “Do you want me to get Madam Pomfrey?”

He shook his head. “No, ’s not bad. And she’ll be around to check on me soon anyways.”

Ron stood suddenly. “I’m going to give McLaggen a piece of my mind.”

“Ronald, you already did that. Once is enough!”

The redhead scoffed. “Hardly. My best friend is in pain! Suffering!” And with that, he stormed out. Harry laughed softly at Hermione’s scowl.

“He’s been looking for an excuse to do that since the beginning of the year. Let him have his fun,” Harry said.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Then her eyes lit. Harry looked at her warily, predicting a realization he wasn’t sure he was ready for. “I figured it out,” she said proudly.

“Figured what out?” His brows furrowed, though he had a sinking suspicion he knew what it was.

Hermione hummed. “Who ‘D’ is.”

His stomach plummeted. “Y-you did?”

She smirked, and his fear intensified. She really should have been in Slytherin. “Draco Malfoy.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “How did you--wha--”

“Aha! So I was right!” She was grinning, far too pleased with herself for Harry’s liking. He pulled the stiff white sheets up to hide his face. Not much protection, but at least it hid his blush.

“How did you figure it out?” he sighed finally.

“Well, it was Ron actually that gave me the final clue. When he mentioned that Malfoy was acting differently lately, it got me wondering. And then the rest of the pieces fell into place.”

Harry looked at her in amazement. She really was brilliant. “When did you realize?”

“This morning. Though, honestly, I should have figured it out far sooner. I would have, too, except that he’s Malfoy in my mind, and it didn’t strike me until earlier today that his first name starts with a ‘D’. It was obvious once I realized that. You two have always had a rather odd relationship.”

“Hey!”

“Well, it’s true. Most people who hate each other try to _avoid_ each other. You two, on the other hand, are drawn together like moths to a flame.”

“No, we’re n--”

“ _And_ , you’ve been completely obsessed with him since you met. You’re always sure he’s plotting or something. He’s hardly better. It’s as if his entire purpose in life is getting your attention. Now that I think about it, it’s really quite apparent.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but closed it when he realized she was right. Parkinson’s guess about the crush starting first year was starting to make a lot more sense now. He exhaled loudly. “Alright, alright.” Eyeing her cautiously, he added, “You’re not...mad, are you?”

She looked shocked. “Of course not, Harry! Why would I be mad?”

“It’s just, with all the things he’s said to you, I was worried--”

“Harry, I want you to be happy. If you see something in Malfoy that the rest of us don’t, then I fully support you. Even I can see that he’s intelligent, and he’s obviously attractive.” Harry grinned in agreement. “I trust your judgement, though I do worry. He hasn’t exactly been the best to us in the past. I don’t want you to get hurt.” She smiled softly. “It’s your choice, though. If he’s the one you want, then go for it.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I kind of already have.”

She waited expectantly. “And?”

“He’s my, uh, boyfriend now.”

His friend looked at him in surprise before breaking out into a wide smile. “That’s great, Harry! Since when?”

“Today.”

She hugged him, the action slightly awkward give Harry’s half-upright position. When they broke away, she was giving him her curious look. “Does that mean he visited you in the Hospital Wing?”

“Er...yeah.”

“That’s so romantic,” she gushed. Harry was surprised to see she was genuinely excited, unless she was a far better actress than he realized. It was nice to have someone to whom he could talk who knew everything and wouldn’t judge him for it.

“Don’t tell him that,” Harry said with a snort.

Hermione grinned. “What made you realize how you felt?”

Harry thought back to the exact moment he realized his feelings. “I think it was when I learned he was just as human as I was. I started realizing how biased I had been, and how wrongly I judged him. Our whole rivalry really boiled down to the fact that I refused his friendship in first year. And that wasn’t exactly fair to him. So I decided to give him another chance.”

“And you found someone worth dating?” She seemed intrigued by his abrupt turnaround, perhaps even a bit impressed.

Harry smiled softly, falling for Draco again as he ran through the memories in his head. “Someone worth loving.”

“Oh, Harry!” She was tearing up. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I’m happy too, ‘Mione. For the first time in a long time, I really am happy. I don’t know how, or why, but somehow, Draco causes everything to make sense.”

She laughed. “It’s weird to hear you call him that.”

Harry grinned. “It was weird for me at first too. Now it seems strange to call him Malfoy.”

She nodded in understanding. “You’ll take me to meet him sometime? Properly?”

“Sure, Hermione.” He wondered how Draco would take it, but decided the Slytherin wouldn’t care too much. Pansy and Blaise already knew, so it was only fair.

By the time Madam Pomfrey came to shoo Hermione out the door, Harry felt more relaxed than ever, and Hermione still hadn’t stopped smiling. Telling her hadn’t been nearly as hard as he’d feared, though he figured it was made easier by her discovering it beforehand. Maybe it wouldn’t be as difficult as he’d thought to come out to everyone. The rest of the students certainly wouldn’t take it as well as Hermione, but her reaction gave him hope. He drifted off to sleep imagining him and Draco kissing in the Great Hall without anyone giving them any attention at all...

 

Harry had finally gotten the memory from Slughorn and couldn’t stop grinning, still high on Felix Felicis. The night air was crisp and cool as he walked back to the castle from Hagrid’s. He hoped Ron and Hermione were still up so he could share the good news. Ron deserved praise for his idea to use Liquid Luck. As he came in through the Entrance Hall, he relished in the fact that he didn’t have to worry about Filch finding him. It was easy to understand how wizards became addicted to the stuff.

A shock of blond hair made him stop. It peeked out from behind a suit of armor, and Harry couldn’t help but giggle. Apparently the potion was affecting him more than he realized.

“Draco?”

A head popped up. “Harry,” it said with a sigh of relief. “I thought you were Filch.” The Slytherin slipped out of his hiding spot and over to Harry. They kissed quickly, making his mind go numb and his lips tingle. “What gave me away?”

Harry tugged on a loose blond lock. “Malfoy hair.” His hand was batted away, so he pressed a kiss to the spot instead. Draco glared, but there was an amused spark in his eyes. He was carrying his Nimbus and was bundled up in winter clothes. Harry raised a brow. “Why are you up so late?”

A shadow passed over his pale features. “Nightmare. Woke me up.” Harry squeezed his arm. He wondered if it was about Voldemort. His own nightmares had been fairly scarce as of late, due in part to the ridiculous bubbliness brought on by his new boyfriend. “I was going to go for a quick fly.”

“I’ll join you if you give me a minute to drop something off.”

Draco raised a brow. “Alright. If you think you can keep up.”

Harry grinned. “Challenge accepted. Walk with me to the Tower?” Draco nodded, and the other boy took his hand.

Grey eyes glared at him. “Malfoys do _not_ hold hands.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” And then they were kissing again. When they resumed walking hand-in-hand ten minutes later, Draco didn’t protest. He intertwined their fingers properly without making eye contact, as if daring the Gryffindor to question him. Harry just smiled, swinging their hands as they walked. He caught Draco up on his progress with Slughorn on the way. The words poured out almost without his realizing. His focus was on the feel of the hand in his. It was strange that such a simple touch could make his stomach do flips and his heart pound harder. Even through the fabric of their gloves, warmth radiated into him. He couldn’t remember feeling that way holding hands with anyone else.

“See you in a minute,” he said when they reached the portrait. He kissed Draco softly, ignoring the shriek of protest from the Fat Lady. Harry lingered, not wanting to separate just yet.

“Don’t you dare get clingy on me,” Draco warned as they finally broke apart.

“But you’re so cling-worthy...”

“Potter, you’re walking a thin line. If you call me cute or some other ridiculous adjective, I’ll have to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower.”

“Then I’ll just have to cling harder so you can’t give in to your suicidal tendencies.”

“Prat.”

“Pumpkin.”

“Git.”

“Sweetums.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Potter. Get on with it before Filch comes and throws us both off the Astronomy Tower.”

Harry pressed his lips to the corner of Draco’s mouth once more before saying the password.

“It’s about time,” the Fat Lady grumbled.

“Sod off.”

 

He entered to find Ron and Hermione sitting together on the couch. “It worked,” he said. The two jumped apart as if they’d been stung. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said with a raised brow. He wondered what exactly he had walked in on.

Ron went pink and Hermione hid her blush by turning away. “You got the memory?” Ron asked, composing himself.

Harry nodded. “Yep. Great idea, Ron. Slughorn gave it up easily once he and Hagrid were drunk enough.”

Ron looked at him, bewildered. “Was that your plan?”

“No, it just kind of happened. Brilliant, though.”

Peeking another look at Hermione, Ron scratched his head. “Um, I think I’ll head to bed now. You coming, mate?”

“No, I think I’ll go for a spin on my broom. I’m still running on adrenaline from the Felix Felicis.”

The redhead nodded. “Night, Harry. Night, Hermione.” His ears were red.

Once he was gone, Hermione pushed her hair out of her face. “Did you give the memory to Dumbledore yet?”

“No, I’ll do it tomorrow. Do you mind holding onto it for tonight?”

“Not at all.”

Once the vial traded hands, Harry remembered something. “Draco’s outside if you’d like to see him.”

She looked startled. “He’s outside right now?” Harry nodded. She considered, clearly determining if sleep was a better option. It was around midnight, and he was surprised his friends had waited for him. Exhaustion was apparent in every subtle movement she made. “Alright, I suppose it’s as good a time as any.”

They exited the portrait together. Harry wondered how Draco would react to Hermione’s arrival. Hopefully he’d behave, but one could never be sure. The Slytherin jumped when he saw a second head follow Harry’s. He recovered quickly.

“Granger.” At least it wasn’t Mudblood.

Harry stepped over to Draco, taking his hand once more. The appendage twitched, but the blond made no move to remove it. “Hermione, this is Draco, my boyfriend.”

Hermione smiled. “Draco,” she greeted, testing out the name on her tongue. The boy in question simply raised a brow before turning to face Harry.

“You’re not going to reintroduce me to the Weasel too, are you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Play nice. And no, I think that introduction will wait awhile.”

Hermione held out her hand. Draco eyed it suspiciously before taking it and shaking once.

“It’s nice to meet you on better terms,” the girl said pleasantly. Draco nodded but didn’t say anything in return. “I’ll leave you boys to your Quidditch.” Hermione shot Harry a quick smile before stepping back through the portrait.

“You could have warned me,” Draco muttered. Harry grinned unabashedly and they took off for the Quidditch pitch.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Draco found that holding hands, however un-Malfoy-like, was quite wonderful. It struck him, not for the first time, how odd their situation was. He now stole kisses in dark corridors from his once-enemy. Threaded his fingers through those of a Gryffindor’s. Got introduced as ‘boyfriend’ to the Golden Boy’s Muggleborn Housemate. Snuck out onto the Quidditch pitch to fly with the opposing team’s Seeker. He loved it.

They walked in comfortable silence through the halls and onto the field. The air was frosty, and fogged up when they breathed. Draco was grateful for the extra layers of clothing he wore. Apart from the cold, it was a beautiful night. The sky was clear, and he could make out his favorite constellations in the sky.

He’d always loved looking at the stars and had known most of them before stepping foot into Astronomy class. Part of it, he admitted, was due to his name. It was comforting to know his dragon was always in the sky, glowing brightly enough to dust away the shadows of even the darkest moments. Sometimes when he was at the manor, he’d lie down in the grass and look up at the stars. It made the Dark Lord and the oncoming war seem further away.

It was his mother who first taught him the constellations. She took him by the hand and led him just past the gate, saying the house blocked the sky. When she lied down, he was surprised. It was the first time he remembered her getting her clothes dirty. She leaned back, resting her hands delicately on her stomach, somehow managing to look elegant even while lying in the dirt. Draco crept up beside her, mimicking her position when she lifted her brows at him.

At first, he fidgeted, quite bored with the notion of staring into outer space. When she pointed out the stars of _Draco_ , his interest was caught. They spent the night gazing up at the twinkling lights, making up stories about the different constellations. It was one of the few times his mother let her guard down, perhaps because she was under the cover of darkness. Perhaps because his father wasn’t around. Either way, it was one of his happiest memories, and looking at the stars now made him smile.

“Accio Firebolt!” Harry’s voice pulled him from his memories.

“Show off.”

A grin met his insult. “I had to do that for the first task in fourth year. Comes in handy now and then.” The broom shot into his hands. “So, are we just flying, or are we releasing a snitch?”

“Snitch.” He fumbled around in his pocket for the gold ball once they stepped onto the field.

“Think you can beat me?” Harry asked.

Draco raised a brow. “In a fair match?”

“I always play fair. Gryffindor, remember?”

“I seem to recall you using very underhanded tactics last time.”

“Think they’d work this time?” Harry said wryly. Draco shoved him. With one last glance at Harry, he released the snitch. The two shot off into the air in sync.

It was different flying at night. Visibility was lower, but the snitch stood out brighter in the moon’s glow. They chased it around for a while, doing more tricks than usual just for the fun of it. Although they were competing, it felt different than during a match. They flew together rather than against each other, and tensions were far lower. He found himself laughing in exhilaration.

For the first time in a while, Quidditch was actually fun. While he enjoyed the sport, playing Seeker involved a lot of waiting around. Of course, he refused to play any other position, as everyone knew the Seeker was the most important player, and he was the most important human. Still, it was generally rather dull. Now, however, he couldn’t imagine anything more thrilling.

After a particularly long chase, the snitch disappeared once again, and an idea sparked. Before Harry could figure out what he was doing, Draco swooped in and pulled the other boy into a kiss. Green eyes stared back at him in shock for a moment, before fluttering closed as he gave in and kissed back. Harry weaved his fingers through Draco’s hair, and the blond couldn’t help the smirk that took over his features. A metallic fluttering of wings had him stretching his hand out blindly to the right, and he felt his fingers curl around the snitch.

“I won,” Draco breathed, lips moving against Harry’s. Green eyes shot back open in an accusing glare.

“You stole my tactic.”

Draco pointed at himself. “Slytherin.” He pocketed the golden ball.

Harry rolled his eyes but then adopted a mischievous grin. “So, Malfoy, how does it feel to finally hold a snitch in your hand after years of failing?”

Draco stuck his tongue out. “Not as good as this does,” he said, fisting Harry’s robes in his hand and pulling the boy towards him, this time with more insistence. Harry kissed back with equal force. His lips were hot and passionate, devouring Draco as he was devoured in return. Then the lips were on his jaw, and Draco regained his breath in gasps. Harry moved lower, pulling at his collar and pressing quick kisses to the skin of his neck. Draco felt a low moan building and cut it off by biting down on his lip. His broom dipped, and they were forced apart. They both burst into a fit of laughter. Once recovered, they touched down and began to walk back.

Draco couldn’t quit smiling. He had finally caught the snitch, and the kissing was nice too. Okay, so the kissing was more than nice. Suddenly a thought hit him and he stopped.

“Hold on. You drank Felix Felicis.”

Harry shrugged. “So?”

“So you should have caught the snitch.”

The dark-haired boy pondered this for a moment before shrugging again. “Maybe it wore off already. And anyways, I’d say I _did_ get lucky,” he said, wiggling his brows. Draco laughed, not caring how idiotic it was.

For once, he didn’t mind not having the last word.


	10. R.A.B.

Harry and Draco were working on the Vanishing Cabinet when the note arrived from Dumbledore. It was addressed to Harry, but Draco snatched it up and read it as well.

_Harry, come to my office as soon as you receive this. There’s something I must do, and I fear it will prove dangerous. Your assistance would be greatly appreciated._

_-A. Dumbledore_

“Will you wait for me here?” the Gryffindor asked.

“I’m coming too,” Draco informed him.

Harry shook his head. “Dumbledore addressed the note to me, and he said it would be dangerous. I can’t let you go.”

Draco threw his hands in the air. “You think I want to let you walk off into unknown danger?”

“Draco, it’s what I do,” Harry sighed. “You have to accept that I’m going to be in dangerous situations a lot. Voldemort guaranteed that when he tried to kill me fifteen years ago.”

“You don’t always have to play the bloody hero, Potter,” Draco spat.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Harry asked, beginning to get angry.

Draco looked like he was going to retort back, but instead he took a deep breath. “It means I’m coming with you.”

Harry looked at him for a moment longer, cursing the fact that he had to fall for Draco Malfoy, the most pigheaded wizard alive. “Fine,” he conceded. The blond smirked in satisfaction. Harry glared.

They made their way up to his office in relative silence, both anxious to hear what the man had to say. Harry reached out instinctively for Draco’s hand when they stepped onto the spiraling staircase, despite his lingering irritation. Since they were hidden from peering eyes, Draco didn’t pull away. The Gryffindor squeezed tighter when they walked through the doors.

“Harry, Draco,” Dumbledore greeted. His eyes didn’t twinkle like they usually did. He looked weary and somber, as if he’d spent the past few days reliving the funeral of a loved one. His wrinkles were more pronounced and his beard hung limply. Harry wondered, not for the first time, how old the man was. “I looked into horcruxes since you gave me the memory from Horace, and I believe I know the location of another one.”

“We’ll get it, sir,” Harry said immediately. Draco elbowed him, apparently not feeling the Gryffindor spirit.

Dumbledore smiled a little. “I will get it, but one of you must accompany me.” The two boys moved almost imperceptibly closer to each other. The Headmaster looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. “You may both come. We are leaving now.” And with that, he stood, holding out his purple cloaked arms for Side-Along Apparition.

“I thought you couldn’t Apparate inside of Hogwarts,” Draco said.

Dumbledore raised his fluffy white brows. “Most cannot, but on the rare occasion I decide to use the priviledge, I can maneuver past the wards. Being Headmaster has its perks, you see.”

The boys had a quick silent conversation.

Draco glared. _What did you get us into?_

Harry raised his brows. _If you didn’t want to come, you could have let me go alone._

_Git._

_Prat._

_Fine. I’ll go._

_Didn’t doubt it._

Harry looked up to find Dumbledore watching them, eyes twinkling for a moment. Then it faded, and the boys each took an arm.

 

They appeared outside of a dark cave. The night sky was covered with storm clouds, writhing against each other angrily. A biting wind cut through Harry’s light robes. He wished he’d had the foresight to bring his cloak. There was a chasm of churning water between their location and the entrance, waves crashing against sharp rocks and white foam frothing at the peaks.

“Don’t tell me we have to swim,” Draco said in horror. Harry’s looked uneasily at the sight before him but remained silent.

“I’m afraid so, my boy. In we go.” And with that, Dumbledore started to make his way into the water. Harry took a deep breath and followed. He figured if the elderly man could make it, so could he. And he had promised his assistance; it would be poor form to back out now.

The water was like ice. His trousers were soaked instantly and he felt his flesh go numb to the bone.

“Harry!” Draco whined. The Gryffindor put on his best look of annoyance, though part of him whined just as loudly.

“Merlin, just get in already. Stop being such a wuss.”

“Potter, I’ll have you know--”

“I’ll buy you a new set of robes when we get back.”

Draco scoffed. “I wasn’t worried about the robes--nor do I need your charity.”

He proceeded to wade in, however, which made it clear the robes were at least part of the problem. Harry couldn’t help the grin that broke out over his features, despite the chill overtaking his body. When he felt the other boy’s presence at his side, he looked up to see Dumbledore’s progress. The man was halfway across. Making eye contact with each other one last time, the two ducked under the waves.

Harry lost feeling in his limbs as he swam. He wondered if it was possible for his muscles to freeze up entirely. Belatedly, he remembered he could have placed a heating charm on his robes before stepping in. He wasn’t exactly one for forethought.

They emerged at the entrance to a dark cavern. Dumbledore was leaning slightly on the wall to catch his breath. Draco tried his best to look dignified as he slicked his hair back with a practiced hand. It flopped into his face in rebellion. Harry thought he looked like a drowned rat. Or perhaps a ferret.

Dumbledore spoke a chain of indistinguishable words in order to gain entrance. He sliced his palm open, muttering something under his breath about barbaric practices.

“Professor!” Harry cried out in shock. “You should have let me.”

“Stop being a bloody Gryffindor,” Draco grumbled.

Dumbledore smiled. “I agree with Mister Malfoy. I’m a dying man anyways. What’s a little blood loss to me now?” Harry didn’t comment, but the thought made his stomach churn. It was easy to ignore the inevitable death of his Headmaster whilst so much was going on. Hearing it spoken of so calmly made it seem real.

Blood dripped onto stone, revealing a crude opening. They lit their wands with soft mutterings of ‘lumos’ and entered the cavern. Inside was a lake so large and dark it was impossible to see where it ended. Harry turned to Dumbledore, a question on his lips, but the man merely pointed towards something on the water. A boat.

The ride across the lake was silent. The air was heavy and still, like any sounds would be smothered before they reached listening ears. Even Draco, usually brimming with sarcastic comments, kept his lips sealed. It felt as if something deep within the lake was watching--waiting for them to make a wrong move.

Harry helped the Headmaster out of the vessel, and Draco crawled out afterwards. In the center of the rocky island stood something that reminded Harry of a muggle birdbath. The green substance in the bowl emitted an eerie glow. Dumbledore stepped closer, examining it. Harry and Draco watched from a distance. The Headmaster experimented with several methods of removal before turning to face his companions.

“The horcrux, I believe, will be found beneath the potion. Harry, you are in charge of making me drink all of it. Draco, stand guard. It wouldn’t surprise me if Tom had a few more tricks up his sleeve.”

“Sir--” Harry started, but cut himself off when Draco elbowed him. His Gryffindor tendencies wouldn’t be respected in the current company. He forced himself to nod and walk over to Dumbledore. Without another word, he began feeding the vile substance to the man. The first few mouthfuls went down easily, but soon, Dumbledore was whimpering and shaking his head, yelling at Harry to make it stop. Just when he felt he couldn’t take the man’s screams any longer, Draco placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s almost gone. He’ll thank you when it’s over.”

Harry nodded reluctantly and forced the rest down, unable to look directly at the professor.

“...water...”

Harry tried and failed to produce any relief for the man using magic. Eventually, it became clear he needed to get some from the lake. The still water was murky green. Dumbledore’s pained moans sped up his actions and he scooped up the liquid. Before he could carry the water to his professor, a pale hand reached out of the depths to clutch his arm. He pulled away with a gasp, releasing the water he’d obtained and scrambling back.

“Draco? What’s happening?”

An army of pale figures had risen from the lake, crawling onto the rocky island. Harry felt icy fingers wrap around his ankles and wrists, arresting his struggle.

“Inferi,” Draco responded. “They’re reanimated corpses. Voldemort must have used Necromancy to guard the horcrux.”

The Inferi began dragging Harry into the water, unfazed by his thrashing. He couldn’t reach his wand with his hands in their grasp. “What do we bloody do?!?”

“Um...kind of preoccupied right now.” Draco’s shriek confirmed his words. Pale hands went around Harry’s throat and he couldn’t breathe.

“--Draco--choking--”

“Fuck.” There was a ruckus behind Harry, but he still couldn’t turn to look at the other boy. Terror rose in his chest when he neared the end of his oxygen reserve. Just when he felt his vision darkening around the edges, he heard an incantation from behind him. Heat radiated from the source and Harry felt the grips of the Inferi slacken. He used their weakness to dart back to the center of the island.

There, he found Dumbledore collapsed on the ground beside Draco. The blond was standing with his wand spiraling around his head as he chanted. Harry watched in awe, his breath caught in his throat. The flames spread outwards in a ring, and the Inferi were cast back into the water, but what stood out was the boy at the center of it all. His hair glinted gold in the light of the fire, falling around his flushed face in a way that almost gave him a halo. His stance was sure, his jaw tensed, and he was filled with so much raw _power_.

As Draco slumped against the pedestal, Harry felt like his entire perception of the Slytherin changed. Even after they became friends, he saw him as a coward--his susceptibility to prejudices, the way he followed in the footsteps of his father. The fact that Draco _disagreed_ with Lucius’ philosophies yet went along with them anyways. But watching that display--watching Draco give himself entirely over to his magic--made Harry see the strength that lay beneath all of that. Perhaps it wasn’t selflessness, since his own skin was on the line, but it was still bravery.

“What _was_ that?” Harry breathed once he was certain the waters were still again.

Draco pushed himself up into an upright position, tucking his hair behind his ears since it refused to slick back. A thin layer of sweat coated his skin. When his eyes met Harry’s, they were liquid and full of the fire that dissipated moments before. “Inferi are repelled by fire. I remembered. When you--” He broke off. Whether it was to catch his breath, or for another reason, Harry wasn’t sure. “It was choking you, and I panicked. Somehow...I remembered.”

Before he noticed he’d moved, Harry found himself wrapping his arms around the other boy. Draco hugged him back, shaking slightly from the magic use and adrenaline.

“Harry...the boat...Apparate...” Dumbledore’s whispered words made him flinch. He had forgotten about the man, and felt a twist of guilt in his stomach.

“Right.” Harry and Draco worked together to help him into the boat.

“...horcrux...”

Harry snatched up a locket from the basin, queasy at the thought that they almost left it after all their work. He climbed into the boat, and it pushed off towards the entrance by itself. The rest of the journey was a blur. Harry’s head was still spinning, and before he knew it, they were back in the Headmaster’s office.

Madame Pomfrey was called for, and the boys were sent to bed after a quick check up. Both were fine, though Harry had some bruising and Draco was exhausted from his extensive use of magic. Dumbledore had waved them out when Harry tried to insist upon staying. Though he was worried about the man, he couldn’t deny the relief he felt at the idea of his bed. Pocketing the locket, he bid Draco goodnight and headed for Gryffindor Tower.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

_Dear Auntie Bella,_

 

_I hope you are doing well. The Vanishing Cabinet is coming along nicely. I had predicted it would be ready before the year’s end, but the incantation is less powerful than I would have liked. Each casting takes up large amounts of energy and I must wait a week between each session to recharge my magic._

 

_Dumbledore is none the wiser, and Severus covers for me on the nights I sneak out to work on it. I hope to test it once I return to school for seventh year. Perhaps we could arrange to have an object sent through? If everything goes according to plan, it should be fixed before Christmas. I’ll be home soon, so we can discuss the plan in more detail then._

 

_Yours truly,_

_Draco_

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Harry blew dust off the cover of the book he’d just picked up. He was currently sitting near the back of the library with Draco, looking through a stack of books to find mention of R.A.B. The morning after their escapade, Harry discovered the locket was a fake. He asked Hermione to look into the initials found inside, and proceeded to find Draco so they could do the same. They had been working since breakfast, and it was a little past one o’clock now. Skipping lunch was a mutual decision, though Harry’s stomach grumbled in protest.

The intensity of their search was in _no way_ hindered by their close proximity. Harry wasn’t _at all_ distracted by the way Draco’s hand brushed across his when he turned the page. Or the way his heart fluttered when they made eye contact or smiled at each other. He _definitely_ wasn’t distracted by the spontaneous bouts of kissing that had been taking place intermittently during their session.

Harry watched his boyfriend tuck a strand of blond hair behind his ear. The Slytherin had stopped gelling his hair a little ways into their relationship. It was simply too difficult to fix after fingers threaded through it, and they didn’t want to be conspicuous. Harry rather liked it loose. It was soft and silky between his fingers, and he thought it was far sexier down. It made him look older, hanging just above his chin. In a way, it marked the transition from Malfoy--the prat who taunted Harry and his friends--to Draco, who was funny and affectionate in his own snarky, Slytherin way. The boy in question shut the book he was looking through with a sigh.

“Our progress is startling.”

“We’ve only just started,” Harry protested, but his heart wasn’t in it. He couldn’t help but feel like the answer was floating just below the surface of his memory. The initials sounded so familiar, and yet he couldn’t think why. Perhaps they should tell Dumbledore. He might know. They’d have to wait for his input though, as Pomfrey wasn’t letting any visitors in until he looked more himself. It made Harry feel horrible that the man had risked his health for a fake locket, but he was hopeful this clue would make it all worth it.

“Why couldn’t R.A.B. be someone more notable? Then maybe we’d find him or her in one of these dusty old books,” Draco grumbled. Harry couldn’t help but be amused. He knew very well how much the blond loved those dusty old books. In the days since their relationship began, they’d been meeting up to study and talk...among other things...in the library. In that time, it became clear the Slytherin was nearly as bad as Hermione. For someone as academically uninspired as himself, Harry sure had a habit of attracting Ravenclaw-wannabes. The sight of Draco chewing on his lower lip in thought was enough to make Harry glad for their study sessions, even if it meant he had to actually study for the end of the year finals next week. Hermione had noticed the shift, and since then, her approval of Draco went through the roof.

“I always knew he was intelligent,” she said, “but I couldn’t properly admire his dedication to his studies until now.” It was nice to have her support, even if sometimes he felt she was overly enthusiastic. He wasn’t sure if that was her way of overcompensating to make up for secret revulsion, or if she was truly just pleased that he was happy. Either way, it seemed genuine enough, and it almost made him hopeful about telling Ron.

The idea of breaking the news to his best friend made his stomach churn. He knew it would be a battle to get him to listen at all, let alone accept it. While Ron was a loyal friend, he was short-tempered. The redhead would come around eventually, but his prejudices and concern for Harry would make him volatile for at least a few days. Then again, Ron at least wouldn’t try to convince him he was dating his sister like Dean and Draco were inclined to do. Maybe he could tell Ron about the rumors. It might make the blow of who Harry was actually dating less painful.

“Should we keep going?” Draco asked, barely containing his distaste.

“I hate to say it, but I think so.”

“This is so bloody tedious.”

“I’d honestly rather be doing the potions essay.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “The results would be equally horrid.”

“Prat.”

Harry pulled open a new book with a sigh, but it slammed shut only moments later. He looked up in shock, only to have his lips captured in a kiss. Maybe R.A.B. could wait a while...

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Draco was unreasonably happy. He shouldn’t be fighting off a grin after working through lunch and spending the day pushing dust back and forth. But he was. He found himself staring at Harry for ridiculous amounts of time, and a few times, Harry would stare right back. Those moments were breathtaking, and Draco wondered how his lungs were faring since the start of his relationship.

When they weren’t making eye contact or kissing--two activities that seemed to go hand in hand more often than not--Draco found himself watching Harry flip through book after book. He ran his fingers through his hair every now and then, something Draco had grown fond of. When he wasn’t doing that, he was worrying at the inside of his cheek, making his lips pout adorably. And those eyes...Although magnificent when trained upon Draco, the green was stunning the rest of the time too. It was the kind of green you could lose yourself in--refracting off the lights like facets in crystal. Sometimes Draco didn’t believe he was even real. And sometimes Draco wondered if he should be smacked upside the head for being so besotted with a Gryffindor, and the Golden Boy at that. Other times Draco stopped thinking entirely. Those times were his favorite.

He was currently mid-snog, and thus, his thoughts were shut off. Their kissing was passionate and hungry, more so than any they’d shared previously. Harry had granted entry without hesitation, and Draco’s tongue explored his mouth. Soon, their tongues were battling, or perhaps dancing, and a quiet moan escaped him. Harry absorbed it, fingers pulling him closer by the back of the neck. Draco’s hands traveled up and down his sides, feeling the muscles react excitedly to his touch. When they broke away breathlessly, Harry began kissing along his jawline, slowly traveling down his neck.

“Harry...” And suddenly they weren’t close enough--could never be close enough. Draco leaned into the other boy, wrapping his leg around. Then he was straddling him in his chair. He felt the pressure of Harry’s hardening member against his own as their lips locked once more.

“God, Draco...” he groaned into the kiss. Draco tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth. Harry’s arms wrapped around his torso, pressing every inch of their bodies together as forcefully as possible.

“Well, well, well...” They sprang apart. Harry cursed softly as he banged a knee on the desk. Draco looked up to see a smirking Blaise. “Oh no, don’t stop on my account.”

Draco sighed irritatedly. “What do you want, Blaise?”

The boy’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Draco, you sound as if you’re not happy to see me.”

“Do I, now?”

Harry snorted, though he was blushing profusely. His lips were swollen, and despite being annoyed at the interruption, Draco took great pleasure in the thought that he was responsible for the boy’s disheveled appearance.

Blaise tore him from his musings. “Granger asked me to tell you she doesn’t think the library will help.” He raised a brow. “If this is what you two are getting up to in here, I can imagine why.”

“Oh, fuck off, Zabini.” Draco rubbed his eyes in annoyance. “Did she say why?”

Blaise frowned. “No. I was rather curious myself, but she didn’t offer any more information. Might I ask what you’re looking for?”

“R.A.B. Sound familiar?” Draco asked, not expecting an answer but feeling slightly hopeful anyway. Harry looked at him in shock. Apparently, he hadn’t expected him to trust his friend with their task. Draco snorted. Granger knew, so he couldn’t be at fault for telling Blaise.

“Well, I’d start with the most common surnames beginning with B, but I can’t offer any more help than that.”

“Thanks,” Draco said sarcastically. “We _definitely_ didn’t think of doing that. How insightful of you.”

Blaise winked. “You bet.” Then he smirked. “I’ll leave you two to your...research.”

Draco sighed as he left, turning to look at Harry, who had managed to compose himself during the chat. “I guess we’d better get back to searching.” He didn’t notice the strained expression on Harry’s face, as if he was thinking very hard. The Gryffindor jumped out of his chair when he finally figured it out.

“Regulus! Sirius’ brother. I just remembered.”

“Pardon?”

“R.A.B. His initials were on the door to his room at Grimmauld.”

Realization dawned on Draco. “So what do we do about it? He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but I know someone who might be able to help.” Harry did not look happy about it. Draco lifted a brow but didn’t raise questions as they made their way out of the library.

 

Kreacher, Draco discovered, was the house elf Harry removed from Grimmauld Place. After spending a few minutes with him, he was pretty sure he knew why. While the elf was quite fond of Draco--being of Black ancestry and a pureblood--he treated each order from Harry like a death sentence. Between his Muggleborn and half blood rants, they discovered the locket was in the hands of none other than Dolores Umbridge.

Harry and Draco planned to tell Dumbledore everything as soon as he was back on his feet. Until then, they placed the Vanishing Cabinet on hold, and just relished in their time together before they would split up for the summer. Harry would travel to the Burrow, and Draco would be stuck playing the role of the perfect Death Eater.

His stomach was tied in knots, but somehow, Harry managed to make some of his tension go away. It wasn’t always through snogging, though that did help. Mostly it was just his presence. They would lean against each other, or Harry would rest his head on Draco’s shoulder. The Slytherin would grumble about it, of course, but they both knew he loved it. Sometimes they wouldn’t touch at all, and Draco loved those moments too.

It became harder and harder to hide their relationship from the rest of the school. With finals and the end of the year excitement, both were expected to participate in study sessions and games with their Houses. Granger covered for them a lot, and Pansy and Blaise helped as well, though with far more smirks and vulgar gestures. Draco’s pride was all that kept him from reacting to their childish behavior. It was nice. Normal. He reveled in the simplicity of a secret relationship with a loving boyfriend. It was far easier than dealing with the war happening outside the castle and the part he would soon play in it. It was easier. But easy doesn’t last.


	11. Fraternizing with the Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Paris now! The wifi in our hotel is on-point, so there should be no worries in terms of posting. It's very amusing to use my limited French skills lol. Anyways, enjoy the chapter!

Draco’s chin rested in his palm as he listened to Dumbledore’s usual end of the year speech. The rest of the Slytherins looked equally bored. Crabbe and Goyle stared longingly at the empty plates in front of them, wishing the food would be served already. Pansy and Blaise were whispering to each other, snickering at intervals, with Daphne Greengrass jumping in occasionally, much to their dismay. Most likely gossip. Theodore Nott made lazy green swirls in the air with his wand, which Tracey Davis eyed disinterestedly. The lump beside him turned out to be Millicent. Her snores gave away her state of consciousness. Draco wondered if the other Houses were as inattentive during Dumbledore’s speeches. They probably stared in awe of the great and powerful wizard. He snorted.

Despite his opinions on the man’s speeches, Draco was glad to see him up and about again. They planned to tell him about the locket after the feast. The end of the year had flown by quickly, with exams going well, and his birthday passing with only a quiet celebration. He knew his mother would do something nice, so he didn’t mind his actual day being a small affair with Harry. He received a book on Parseltongue from the boy, and it consumed his attention for the days following. Harry told him only seventeen copies were still in existence, and the fact that Draco was given something so rare and perfect made him love his boyfriend even more.

Without his approval, Draco’s eyes flicked over to the Gryffindor table, seeking out a mess of black hair. He found it quickly. Harry looked up as if sensing the grey eyes trained on him. It was a talent they shared, even before they started dating. Draco wondered, not for the first time, at the connection between them.

They shared a private smile before Harry turned to talk to the Weasel. Granger sat beside them. Draco had to admit, he admired the girl. While before he had to hate her simply because he was a Malfoy and a Slytherin and a pureblood, he found he could now appreciate her for her cleverness and loyalty to Harry. Even if he still held some prejudices about Muggleborns, he respected her. He wouldn’t admit it to her face, of course, but internally he could.

There was a part of him he knew would never truly recover from the way he grew up. It wasn’t that he hated Muggleborns, but he did believe pureblood families were culturally superior. Muggleborns didn’t have the background purebloods did. Their ignorance to traditions and the natural setback in their education since they only stumbled upon the wizarding world at age eleven put them at a disadvantage. Draco still couldn’t accept that they were at the same level as purebloods. He was thinking for himself more and more, however, and for him, that was a huge accomplishment.

When Harry turned to talk to the Weaslette, Draco was pleased to notice that no jealousy flared up. Knowing the Golden Boy was his made her seem like a very insignificant threat. Especially considering said Golden Boy was gay. Draco was suddenly struck with the desire to let the world know Harry belonged to him.

The thought surprised him a little; he was certain he wanted to keep their relationship as quiet as possible. Now, he found himself wanting to quit hiding. He wished he could kiss him in public. Hell, he even wished they could _hold hands_. Malfoys didn’t hold hands, but if Harry was the one involved, he could surely make an exception.

Perhaps once the war was over, they could be together publicly. When they no longer had to deal with the Dark Lord or Draco’s status as a double agent. When the tattoo on his arm no longer pulsed when his master called--a signal he couldn’t answer to. When the death toll quit rising and their lives became worth living. All those things seemed too far away as he listened to a future casualty give his last end-of-the-year speech.

“I hope this summer will be a welcome academic reprieve. Seventh years, I wish you luck in your aspirations, and I look forward to seeing the rest of you in September. Now, please enjoy a final feast!” Dumbledore stepped away from the podium, and food appeared in the trays. Crabbe and Goyle dug in furiously, causing Draco’s lip to curl. He would never get used to their horrid table manners.

After eating his fill--with _excellent_ manners--he made eye contact with Harry, and they stood in unison to talk to the Headmaster. Dumbledore caught their gazes and gestured towards the door. Harry left first, followed shortly afterwards by Draco. They knew everyone was still enjoying the feast, so they kissed in greeting. Dumbledore joined them just as they broke away.

“Walk with me?” he asked, starting off at an easy pace.

Harry fell in step with the man. “Sir, we wanted to talk about the horcrux.”

“What of it?”

“Well, it’s a fake.”

Dumbledore nodded in thought. “Very interesting.” Draco found that to be an understated reaction. “How much do you know of its origin?”

“Regulus Black took the real one and replaced it when he realized Voldemort--” Draco flinched at Harry’s use of the name. “--wasn’t the man he thought him to be. He meant to destroy it, but died before he could.”

“Where is the real one?”

“With Dolores Umbridge.” The wrinkle of Harry’s nose made Draco crack a small smile. He loved the way it made his glasses tilt crookedly. He wondered when he began appreciating the ridiculous faces the boy made. Perhaps the stress of the end of the year was getting to him. No one could love someone’s nose as much as Draco did now. It was unheard of.

Dumbledore turned his gaze to Draco for the first time, his half-moon spectacles glinting off the torchlight. The eyes behind the lenses twinkled. Draco wondered if that expression happened naturally or if the man practiced it. _He_ definitely practiced his trademark sneer. The thought of Dumbledore doing the same made his lips twitch.

“Perhaps, Mister Malfoy, it is about time to reunite the Inquisitorial Squad?” And with that, the man left, clearly not expecting them to follow.

Draco looked at Harry with a raised brow. “Does he normally give advice like that?”

The Gryffindor grinned. “Almost always.”

“We’ll need to get Pansy to discuss plans. Blaise can help brainstorm.” He knew if Pansy was coming along, Blaise would attach himself to her side, possibly to be helpful, but more likely for a chance to mock Draco and Harry. And if he was bringing his friend, he realized it was only fair if Harry could as well. “Would Granger be interested in joining us? Her ideas might be of use.”

Harry looked at him in surprise. A smile quickly covered it. “Of course. I’ll go tell her. Meet you in the Room in fifteen minutes?”

“See you then.” They kissed briefly, before taking off to find their fellow conspirators.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Twenty minutes later, the five sat in the Room of Requirement filling each other in. Harry looked around while Draco explained their meeting with Dumbledore. They sat in a circle of leather chairs similar to the ones in the Slytherin common room. Draco arrived first, and as such, his needs shaped the room. Deep green carpet covered the floor, and Harry dug his toes in appreciatively. The color no longer set his nerves on edge.

They had all made themselves comfortable, prepared for a long evening of planning. For Harry, this meant removing shoes and his outer robes. The crackling of the fire made it feel cozy, reminding Harry of the Gryffindor common room, despite the lack of red and gold. Hermione sat to his left, and Draco to his right. Pansy and Blaise filled the other two seats, with the dark haired girl sitting closest to Draco.

“So he wants Draco and I to get the locket from Umbridge?” Pansy asked.

Harry nodded. “Since you two were on her good side, you’ll have an advantage in trying to persuade her. Also, with your connection to the Ministry through your parents, you’ll have an excuse to be there. Are you in?”

Pansy smirked. “I’d be happy to visit the old toad.”

“Brilliant. How should we go about it?”

They all threw out various ideas and discussed the pros and cons. Harry was pleased at how easily their friends worked together. Other than a few snarky comments, the Slytherins seemed quite genial towards both him and Hermione. He was also proud of Draco for getting past his prejudices and pride in order to invite the Muggleborn.

Despite his happiness at the current situation, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about excluding Ron. While he wasn’t usually the brains in their plans, he was always helpful, and it wasn’t fair to work behind his back like this. He was their friend, and Harry knew how hurt he’d be if he found out they’d snuck off to meet up with a trio of Slytherins. Still, it would be difficult to invite him without explaining Harry’s relationship with Draco, and that was something he wasn’t ready to do. Harry brushed aside his guilt. He could deal with that later. Right now was their last chance to figure everything out before summer.

“When should we do it?” Pansy asked once the plan was made.

“What about the end of July?” Blaise suggested. “You’re both supposed to come over to my place around then for my mother’s next wedding.” Pansy snickered. Even Harry knew about Ms. Zabini’s infamously many husbands. “If you do it then, I can cover for you.”

They all nodded their agreement. Hermione’s brow furrowed in thought. “What will you do about the locket once you have it? You surely won’t be able to destroy it without help--we saw what the ring did to Dumbledore. And you can’t exactly take it home with Death Eaters milling about.”

Harry felt a spur of happiness. “You could Apparate to the Burrow once you have it. I can collect it, and keep it safe until we figure out how to get rid of it.” His eyes met Draco’s. There may have been some ulterior motive related to the Slytherin showing up at his residence, but the plan did make sense.

“Potter, if you’re worried about missing your boyfriend, I’m sure he’d be happy to pay a visit without you usurping our plans,” Blaise drawled.

Pansy grinned. “Or maybe _you_ should visit _him_. You could meet the family. What a lovely surprise it would be for his Auntie Bella...”

Draco smirked. “The look on her face would almost make it worth it.”

Harry laughed. “Well, it would probably be the last thing you saw, since she’d surely kill us both.” The thought was an oddly amusing one. Harry wondered if he was feeling okay.

Hermione ignored their scenario. “Alright, the Burrow it is.”

“You know, Weasley’s face might be even more precious than Auntie Bella’s.”

Even Hermione laughed at that. “You’ll have quite a few Weasleys making faces if you go through with this.”

“I dare you to snog him, Potter,” Blaise said.

Harry smirked. “Oh, I’m quite sure I won’t need an incentive.”

Draco raised a brow. “Is that so?”

“The draw of my sexy Slytherin is more than enough.”

“ _Your_ Slytherin?”

“Yes, I quite like the sound of that.”

Draco made a sound almost like a purr. “Then I’m all yours, Potter.”

Blaise snickered. “Get a room!”

Suddenly, a pile of pillows appeared. They all stared in confusion for a moment, before it dawned on them. Apparently, they were in need of a pillow fight. Despite the sheer childishness of it, they quickly complied.

It began as a free for all, but soon, Pansy yelled, “Gryffindor versus Slytherin!” She dragged two chairs together to make a fort. Hermione and Harry did the same. They ducked down to whisper strategies, Hermione doing most of the planning. Harry suggested they simply charge and attack the Slytherins before the other side could work out a plan. Hermione explained that they’d be expecting such, as it was a very Gryffindor strategy, and that they needed to think like a snake. Harry retorted that snakes really aren’t the best strategists, what with their pining over mice and their obsession with body heat. Hermione only rolled her eyes.

Moments later, Draco’s blond head peeked over the backs of the chairs.

“Enemy spy!” Harry shouted, hitting his boyfriend with a pillow. The Slytherin glared in response. His hair was sticking up at odd angles in a way that mimicked Harry’s. A giggle escaped the Gryffindor.

“Stop that senseless attacking at once!” Draco yelled indignantly. “If you mess up my flawless hair one more time, I’ll be forced to retaliate.”

Harry grinned, ruffling the blond locks with a hand. “I like your hair messy.” His comment was met with a scowl. “I also like you better on my team.”

Draco tapped his chin in thought. “Well, if presented with the right motivation, I may just have to switch sides.”

“You’d turn traitor for me?”

“Already have,” Draco replied, looking pointedly at his left arm where the Dark Mark sat.

“I’m flattered.” And then Harry tipped the chair over so the blond tumbled into his lap. Draco adjusted his robes haughtily. Harry laughed and kissed him.

Hermione was not a fan of this arrangement. “Harry! Quit fraternizing with the enemy! We need to strategize.”

Harry broke away, breathless, and spoke between quick kisses, “How about...you fight off...the other Slytherins...while I take this one...”

“That’s a terrible strategy! You’re not even using a pillow.”

“No...even better...I’ve got my tongue down his throat...”

Hermione grumbled, but a smile played with her features.

“Attack!” shrieked Pansy, and then a storm of pillows rained down on them, followed by the heavy forms of diving Slytherins. The five were quickly reduced to a pile of feathers, limbs, and laughter.

When they left for the evening, they were still giggling uncontrollably. Draco picked feathers off of his robes, while Harry trailed along behind him with a handful of feathers from his own robes, tucking them into Draco’s collar unhelpfully. The students said goodbye with reluctance. Farewells were even accompanied with hugs from Pansy, to the surprise of the Gryffindors. It was clear that somewhere during the evening, they had become friends.

As he made his way to Gryffindor Tower with Hermione, Harry decided he quite liked fraternizing with the enemy.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

_July 27_

_Draco,_

_Sorry it’s taken so long for me to write. I just arrived at the Burrow, and couldn’t send mail from the Dursleys. You know how they are about magic. How are you? I haven’t received any news from you all summer. I understand it must be hard to send letters with a house full of Death Eaters, but I hope you’ll find a way._

_My escape to the Burrow was insane. Order members showed up and Polyjuiced themselves to look like me so the Death Eaters couldn’t tell which was real. It was strange looking at myself with such foreign expressions on my face--it reminded me of our switch at the beginning of the year. Once we took to the skies, Voldemort attacked. Hedwig was killed, and so was Moody. Somehow their deaths were different than the previous ones. It’s clear now that we’re at war._

_Remus and Tonks got married! I wish I could have been at their wedding, but they told me it was a quiet affair, so I guess it’s okay. They seem really happy, and I’m glad Remus has finally moved on from Sirius. I told them about us, and neither was particularly surprised. Actually, Remus had it figured out on the first day at Grimmauld. We talked about it when we were going through my godfather’s things. They’re hoping to be here when you arrive, which would be nice. Any support we can get in a house full of Weasleys is appreciated._

_Speaking of weddings, do you remember Fleur Delacour from the Tri-Wizard Tournament? She’s engaged to Bill Weasley, Ron’s oldest brother, and their wedding is scheduled to take place on August first. Hopefully you’ll still be here then. I’d love to be able to spend an extra day with you before you go back. Do you think Zabini can cover for you that long?_

_On the subject of Fleur, I never understood why her veela charm was so much more powerful on Ron. Now it’s amusing to realize it’s because she has the wrong parts. It’s a wonder it never clicked before. Now Hermione and I have ganged up on Ron, mocking him constantly for his ogling. He replied bitterly that he wished at least one of his mates was interested in girls. I, however, think he should be grateful Hermione’s not._

_Being back at the Burrow is so strange. It’s been over a year, as I didn’t come for Christmas or summer break. Molly is always so warm and welcoming. She keeps the place lively and cheerful no matter what’s happening in the rest of the wizarding world. It’s quite a talent. Having Fred and George around again is fun. They’ve been playing more pranks than ever, and a few times they even let me in on them. Charlie came back from Romania for the summer, so the only one absent is Percy, and I can’t say his presence is missed. Arthur’s obsession with muggle things reminds me of you._

_Actually, everything seems to remind me of you lately. How crazy is it that less than a year ago, we hated each other’s guts? Now going even a fews weeks without your smirk makes me feel empty. Is it just me? I think Hermione can tell, and Ron seems to know something’s up, but he obviously hasn’t guessed what. It helps that there’s so much going on around here to distract me, but your absence still hurts. I miss you so much. I never thought it possible to miss someone as much as I do now. I can hardly wait to see you in a few days._

_Write to me soon! I know it may seem too early to say this, but I’ve felt it for a while now, and it’s easier to put it down on paper. I love you. Please don’t freak out, or feel pressure to send back the same. Don’t say it until you’re sure it’s true and feel comfortable saying so._

_I love you,_

_Harry_

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

_July 28_

_Harry,_

_It’s wonderful to finally hear from you. I’ve been trying to sneak out to send a letter since the start of the summer, but Auntie Bella has kept a watchful eye on me. Hearing from you doubled my efforts. I don’t think she trusts me very much, but then again, she hardly trusts anyone besides the Dark Lord. Hopefully that will change after Dumbledore’s death. We could use my relationship with her to our advantage if that happens._

_I’m glad your summer’s been nice. Tell Lupin and Tonks I’m happy for them. My own summer, of course, has been...different, given the circumstances. Mother took me outside for the best birthday I’ve ever had. She said it wouldn’t be possible to have a party, as I usually do, but that she still wanted it to be special. Instead, she took me out under the stars all night._

_Have I ever told you how much I love constellations? Mother taught me about them when I was little, and I’ve loved them ever since. She brought apple tart, and we split it between us. It was so odd seeing her give so little care to her manners. We forgot utensils, so we ended up eating with our hands. She laughed freely, in a way she hasn’t since I was little. I’d forgotten how much I loved that sound._

_After that, we stayed up and talked. I told her about us. I probably shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it. She was happy for me. Apparently she knew I liked you since the summer before second year, when I wouldn’t stop talking about you, but she didn’t think I’d realize it on my own. Before you worry, she’s a skilled Occlumens, so the Dark Lord won’t find out. She wouldn’t have lived this long as a non-Death Eater in a house full of them otherwise. It’s nice to have someone who knows, even if I can’t talk to her about it often._

_Merlin, do you really miss me that much? I would scoff if I didn’t feel the same way. How Hufflepuff of me. I can’t wait to see you--it’s only a few days now. Also, you’re an idiot, you know that? Of course I love you, you git. I’ve loved you since before we first kissed. It’s nice to finally hear you say it and to be able to say it back just as freely. I only wish I could say it to you in person._

_All my love,_

_Draco_

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

_July 29_

_Draco,_

_I’m glad you had a nice birthday and that your mother is okay with us, but that won't cut it. You can’t just tell me the good things. How are you really?_

_Love you,_

_Harry_

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

_July 30_

_Harry,_

_Cut that out. You’re supposed to be the oblivious one. If I wanted to date someone perceptive I’d be with Pansy--or perhaps Granger. Just this once, however, I’ll comply._

_I’m not doing well. I didn’t want you to worry, but living here is horrible. My father is out of Azkaban and the Dark Lord has made Malfoy Manor his headquarters. Death Eaters are everywhere, and though I grew up with most of them (being my parents’ friends and acquaintances), it’s different seeing them in this light. They aren’t at all like the people I once knew. Around the Dark Lord they’re either cowering or cursing Muggleborns. The worst part is the violence. I never realized how truly evil they could be. Professor Burbage was killed in front of me. I can still see her tortured expression when I close my eyes._

_As I said, my father is now home. Despite my mixed feelings about him, it’s horrible being in the same room now. I can’t bear to see him so frayed. He hasn’t recovered from his time with the dementors, leaving him weak and emaciated. The Dark Lord hasn’t forgiven him yet either, so father’s suffering is only made worse at his hand. I always knew he was a servant, but watching him kneel and beg and grovel is more than I can stand. It only makes me feel more certain in my decision to take a stand._

_Above all, I’m terrified they’ll discover where my loyalties lie. My mother taught me Occlumency from a young age, so I’m not worried on that front, but it wouldn’t be hard to intercept one of our letters, or catch me at the Ministry tomorrow. As such, this ink is charmed so it can only be read by you. Thankfully our previous letters arrived safely, as no one has carted me off to the dungeons yet._

_The only bright side of any of this is Nagini’s presence. I’ve been reading the book you gave me and am making strides in terms of understanding Parseltongue. Speaking it will take some work, as I can’t very well practice without raising suspicions, but listening has its benefits. In the meantime, overhearing Nagini converse with the Dark Lord could very well bring some much needed insights._

_If I didn’t have the promise of seeing you tomorrow, I don’t think I could make it through the evening. My nightmares are worse than ever, and I wish you were here. Sleeping in your arms always made them stop._

_See you tomorrow,_

_Draco_

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

_July 31_

_Draco,_

_I don’t know if this will arrive before you leave. Good luck. I love you._

_Harry_


	12. Ministry Infiltration

“Ready to meet the parents?” Pansy was reapplying her lipstick in the mirror of Blaise’s bathroom. Her makeup was immaculate, and she wore some of her best robes. Draco also wore a nice set of robes, partially because he always dressed well, but partially to avoid Pansy’s whining. She rubbed her lips together and then smacked them experimentally.

“Pansy, dear, you do realize I’m not actually your boyfriend?”

She pecked him on the cheek, leaving a red mark. “Yes, but my parents won’t know that, will they? And if you show up looking less than optimal, they’ll surely have a heart attack.”

He rubbed at his cheek ruefully, rolling his eyes at his friend. They walked arm in arm into the drawing room downstairs before stepping into the fireplace.

“Leaving so soon?” Blaise called from his position in a chair where he was reading.

Pansy blew him a kiss. “Duty calls. But I still love you best.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “The Ministry of Magic.” The two Slytherins disappeared in a flash of green fire.

 

When they arrived in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Pansy led him up to her parents’ desks. They sat in cubicles across from each other, in a way that allowed them to duck their heads around to talk, but in which they didn’t normally make eye contact. The woman looked like an older version of Pansy, with hair only a shade darker, and cut in the same bob. Her chin was pointier, and her neck stretched a bit longer, but they had the same eyes. The suit she wore was designer, making Draco relieved at his choice of attire.

“Pansy, dear,” the woman greeted, smiling reservedly. “And Draco. How lovely to see you both. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Pansy threaded her fingers through Draco’s, looking up at him with excited nerves and affection. She deserved an award for her acting. “Mother, Father, I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend.” They made eye contact for another moment before Pansy pulled away, as if with reluctance.

Draco continued to stare at her with as much love and affection as he could muster. The exercise made him want to snort, so he pictured Harry instead. Merlin, how he missed him. The letters they’d exchanged were far from an adequate replacement for real interaction. Mentally, he made Pansy taller, broadening her shoulders and flattening her chest. The eyes shifted to brilliant green, the hair a darker charcoal. He could picture Harry in his mind as well as if he’d seen him just yesterday. With a blink, the image faded into Pansy’s small figure. He shifted his gaze to her parents.

Mrs. Parkinson looked intrigued, but he wasn’t sure if she was pleased or not. She extended a hand politely. Draco shook it, trying to look anxious, as if he was worried about impressing her. Mr. Parkinson stood, holding out his hand as well. The man was mustached and broad, but his presence was one of wealth. His brown hair was greying in places, and his brow seemed stuck in a permanent furrow.

“I’m glad to hear my Pansy has found someone to make her happy.”

Draco wanted to laugh. So this is how it would have gone if their friendship became something more. He had always wondered what it would be like if things were so easy. If he wasn’t gay. If he wasn’t in love with Harry fucking Potter. If he became a good little Death Eater like his father always hoped. He smirked. Actually, he _was_ a good little Death Eater. That was the problem. The Dark Lord preferred his Death Eaters a bit more on the evil side.

“How is Lucius?” Mrs. Parkinson asked.

Draco put up his Malfoy heir mask. He knew what the question meant: _Is Lucius back in the Dark Lord’s good graces?_ Slytherins learned from a young age what it meant to read and speak between the lines. Draco perfected it before he could ride a broom.

“He’s doing well, given the circumstances,” Draco said carefully. “My mother and I are happy to have him home.” _What a joke._

“That’s nice to hear. Would you two like to stay for lunch?”

Pansy shook her head, eyeing Draco mischievously. “Not today, mother. Draco and I have...plans...” It was all he could do not to choke. Mrs. Parkinson looked amused, though her husband seemed to be in a state similar to Draco’s.

“Well, don’t let us hold you up, dear. Enjoy your date.” And with that, she turned back to her work. Mr. Parkinson nodded to them both before following in suit.

Draco and Pansy walked off at a normal pace until they were out of sight. Then, they sprinted along corridors until they reached an office at the end of the hall. As head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, Umbridge had a space set apart from the others. Draco eyed Pansy, only to find her as composed as ever. She truly was an exemplary Slytherin. Without another moment of hesitation, she knocked on the maroon wood. The precise raps were followed by a shrill voice.

“Enter.”

Dolores Umbridge sat behind a mahogany desk, looking as toad-like as ever. Draco wondered if anyone ever told her that pink brings out greenish hues. Evidently not, as she still wore just as much of the dreadful color as ever, giving her the same green tinge he’d come to loathe so much. Her false smile fell into place on those sickly cheeks when she spotted them.

“Ah. Mister Malfoy. Miss Parkinson. It’s been a while.”

They both bowed their heads respectfully, making Draco cringe, but achieving the appeasement they were hoping for from the woman before them.

“We came by to inform our parents of our relationship status, and couldn’t resist stopping by to say hello to our favorite professor,” Pansy said.

The toad woman preened at the heavy praise. Draco wanted to roll his eyes. “How thoughtful of you. How is everything back at Hogwarts?”

Draco did roll his eyes now, as it was part of his act. “Dreadful. That old coot Dumbledore is back, and all your excellent progress has been undone.”

She huffed. “I knew it was a mistake bringing him back. No one listened, but I knew.”

Pansy fell into one of the chairs in front of the desk with a dramatic sigh. “Oh, it’s terrible. Did you know we’re doing _actual spells_ in Defense? Someone could get seriously injured! It’s far inferior to your theoretical methods.”

Umbridge smiled sweetly. “Well, you know they _are_ Ministry approved.”

“Indeed!”

While Pansy continued to flatter the woman incessantly, Draco’s eyes were drawn to the locket around her neck. He knew his friend would play the distraction for as long as he needed, so he brainstormed the best ways to retrieve it. Perhaps he could simply levitate it? He pictured the way her eyes would track the peculiar movement and mentally crossed that off the list. A thought struck him.

“What a beautiful locket that is,” he commented admiringly. “May I have a closer look?”

The woman hesitated, but in the end removed it from her short neck and placed it gently on the desk. “It’s a Selwyn family heirloom.”

“Is it, now?” Draco said, trying to hide his sarcasm. He knew it belonged to Salazar Slytherin. She was only wearing it to appear powerful in the eyes of the Dark Lord--pretending to have powerful pureblood ties. He scoffed internally, reaching out as if to examine it more closely. “It truly is gorgeous.”

Pansy cleared her throat, trying to distract the woman so Draco could hide the horcrux. “Professor, how did you become the head of such a prestigious commission?” She leaned forwards, apparently hoping the more space she took up, the more distracting she would be. Umbridge’s eyes flicked between them, as if deciding which deserved more of her attention. It was eerily reminiscent of a frog tracking a fly.

“There’s no need to call me professor, now,” she said simply, gaze still stuck on Draco. He ran his thumb over the surface as if admiring the make. This would be an utterly ridiculous amount of time to admire jewelry, especially as a teenage boy, but hopefully the ruse would hold out a little bit longer.

Soon, it became clear she wouldn’t be so easily fooled. With a slight curse under his breath, Draco lifted his wand and whispered, “Imperio.”

Pansy gasped. “Draco, that’s an Unforgivable!”

He ignored her, focusing his attention on the dazed woman in front of him. Her eyes glazed over, and she appeared to hum quietly, a lazy smile possessing her features.

“You are going to let me take this locket, without putting up a fight of any kind.”

She nodded deliriously, repeating, “...let you...no fight...”

“Very good. And then you will let us both walk out of here. You will tell no one we were here, and will not try to get the locket back. You will not mention its disappearance to anyone or report its absence.”

Draco slipped the locket into his robes, wand still trained on the woman. “Pansy,” he said, not breaking eye contact, “would you do the honors of casting one of your famous memory charms?” She was always the one to cast them whenever they got into more trouble than they could handle. Sometimes it was taunting that went too far. Other times it was getting caught sneaking around in places they shouldn’t be. When she was still inexperienced, she managed to hospitalize a store clerk in Knockturn Alley. Since then, she had greatly improved.

Draco saw her nod out of his periphery. “Obliviate,” she whispered. Draco dropped his wand, freeing the woman, who still looked dreadfully out of sorts. He and Pansy slipped out of her door before she could come back to her senses.

Neither spoke on the way back to the Floo system. Even once they stepped out of the fireplace at Borgin and Burkes, they stayed silent, afraid to alert any customers of their recent activity. Only when they made their way into the crowded streets of Knockturn Alley did they dare to speak.

“Draco!” Pansy’s eyes were wide as she stared at him reproachfully.

He sighed. He had known her admonishment was coming, but he really didn’t want to deal with it. “Pans, I know I used an Unforgivable.”

No one would give them a second glance here. Even if they heard about use of such curses, they wouldn’t be surprised. Most of them were practitioners of the Dark Arts, and were well-versed in the big three. It was loud in the street anyway, with wizards and witches bustling around in black robes. They were as safe as could be.

“But...but...they’re _unforgivable_.”

He snorted. “Thank you for that clarification.”

Pansy smacked him on the arm. “Well, if you’re so well-informed, then why in Merlin’s name did you just cast one?”

“It was the only way I could think of to get the locket.”

“What if you’d been caught?”

“We just stole from a Ministry official. If we got caught, we’d be in big trouble anyways.” He lazily glanced at the merchandise in the windows of stores they passed. Knockturn Alley was a place of many good memories for him. His father had often taken him here when he was little, to look at interesting artifacts or meet with the wizards who owned them. Dark Magic was rife in all the shops, but that didn’t scare him. It was what he’d grown up with, and although he didn’t wish to follow the Dark Lord, he had no problem with the darker side of magic. To him, it was just as important as the light. Balance was what made the world work.

Pansy harrumphed impatiently. “Doesn’t it bother you that you’ve used one of the worst curses in the wizarding world?”

“Pans, I’m going to kill Dumbledore after school starts back up. I think the killing curse makes this little experience inconsequential, don’t you?” Pansy didn’t respond. He avoided her gaze, afraid to see the sympathy in her eyes. “We should get to the Burrow. They’ll be waiting to know how it went.”

“Your boyfriend will be waiting, you mean,” she corrected with a smirk. Draco breathed a sigh of relief that she was back to normal.

“Same difference.” Without waiting for another comment, he took her by the elbow and whisked them away to the Burrow.

 

x*x*X*x*x 

 

Harry’s birthday was nearly perfect. There were presents from everyone, but more importantly, he could now use magic. Accio-ing his glasses in the morning was far more satisfying than he expected. It was also surprisingly nice to have everyone paying so much attention to him. Normally, being in the spotlight made him cringe. He found that when his friends were involved it wasn’t so bad.

The party was small, as requested, since there were still preparations for the wedding to be made, but it was just what he needed. The only thing missing was a certain blond Slytherin, although Harry and a select few knew that would soon be remedied. His excitement at seeing Draco after all this time was slightly dampened by a few key things.

First was the worry that accompanied knowing his boyfriend was on a dangerous mission to retrieve a horcrux from the Ministry. It drove him crazy wondering how Pansy and Draco were faring. He kept seeing horrible possibilities play out in his head. What if they were caught and imprisoned for breaking into the Ministry? Or worse, what if Voldemort found out what they were doing and killed them? Hermione noticed his worry and did her best to console him. He smiled gratefully, but her attempts did little to settle his fears.

The other thing that scared him was the idea of how the Weasleys would react. They were like his family, and he didn’t know what he’d do if they turned against him. Hermione, Remus, and Tonks would have his back, but that might not be enough to convince the Weasleys. They had a lot to dislike the Malfoys for. He could only hope their care for him would extend to acceptance of the one he’d chosen to be with.

For a while, he considered warning them beforehand, so it wouldn’t be such a shock seeing two Slytherins apparate into their yard. However, he decided it would be easier to let the sight speak for itself. He didn’t think he could tell everyone without Draco by his side, and part of him was afraid telling people would somehow jinx it and they wouldn’t arrive safely. He knew it was silly, but that didn’t calm his nerves. Hopefully no harm would be done before Harry could explain.

He was listening for the tell-tale pop all day, so when he finally heard it just after dinner, he threw caution into the wind and ran out of the house. Voices called out after him, but he didn’t care. The door banged open and he ran into the field. He halted when he spotted the two figures making their way towards the house.

His breath caught. The sun was just setting, sending oranges and pinks splashing across Draco’s pale skin and hair. His grace and poise made him look like an angel, even as he pushed his way through the tall grasses. He had his characteristic scowl on his face, clearly arguing with Pansy about something. When his eyes met Harry’s, he too stopped. The grey looked almost silver in the fading light, and his scowl melted into a smile. Harry grinned back, and then he was running.

Draco met him in a kiss, and suddenly Harry couldn’t understand how they’d been apart for so long. It was crazy to imagine he went more than a day without _this._ Suddenly it didn’t matter that the Weasleys would come find him--it didn’t matter what anyone said. Harry was with the love of his life, and everything would be okay.

“God, I missed you,” Harry breathed against Draco’s lips. The Slytherin smiled.

“The sentiment is shared.”

Harry pulled back to assess Draco’s well-being. “You got the locket safely?”

“Yes, it’s right here.” He dropped the horcrux into Harry’s palm. “Everything went smoothly.”

“Good.” Their eyes met again, and neither could break away. “I love you. I never got to say it out loud, but I’ve been wanting to since December.”

Draco raised a brow. “That long? I knew I was gorgeous, but...”

“Oh, shut up, you prat.”

The blond grinned. “I love you, too.” They kissed once more, this time less desperate--slower and deeper than the one before.

“Company,” Pansy warned. Harry had forgotten she was there. Her words were soon forgotten as well when Draco’s tongue met his.

“HARRY? WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT FERRET?”

They broke away breathlessly, dread building in Harry’s stomach. He turned to face not only Ron, but the entire Weasley family, plus the Delacours, Remus, Tonks, and Hermione.

“Um, hi,” Harry said awkwardly. In his head, this scene had been far more romantic. Harry and Draco would kiss and everyone would see how in love they were. They would make statements about their undying devotion to each other, and the listeners would be teary. Instead he just felt extremely uncomfortable. He shoved the horcrux into his pocket to have something to do.

Ron was looking at him like he couldn’t decide whether he was confused or angry, and if it was the latter, who he was angry with. Hermione and Remus looked on sympathetically. Tonks winked. The rest of the Weasleys looked shocked. Mrs. Weasley was clenching her wand tightly in her fist, ready to defend her family as soon as it became necessary. It was scary being at the other end of her wand. The Delacours didn’t have any clue what was going on. Their expressions were almost comical, and in any other situation, Harry would have laughed.

“Harry, what’s going on?” Ron’s voice cracked.

Hermione stepped forwards. “Just tell them, Harry. Before they jump to the wrong conclusions.”

“Or the right conclusions,” Draco said under his breath.

“Tell us _what_?” Ron was more flustered than Harry had ever seen him.

Mrs. Weasley eyed the two Slytherins with distaste. “I want to know what they’re doing on my property.” Her eyes were hard and dangerous, as if daring them to deny her the answers she sought.

Arthur placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder, though he looked like he agreed with her. “Now, Molly, let them explain.”

“Harry!” Ron insisted.

“Alight!” Harry took a deep breath. He felt Draco’s fingers intertwine with his, and leaned almost imperceptibly closer to the blond. Ron’s eyes bugged, but Harry ignored him. “Draco--” Several gasps rang out amongst the younger Weasleys. “--and Pansy came here to drop off something they retrieved from the Ministry for Dumbledore. They’re on our side, so they aren’t a threat.” Mrs. Weasley relaxed slightly, but tensions were still high amongst the rest of the family.

Ron’s ears pinked. “But...what were you _doing_ with him? And since when is he _Draco_?”

“Well, er...I was, um--”

“For Merlin’s sake, we were snogging,” Draco interrupted. “Ever heard of it?”

Ron flushed further, but pressed on. “But _why?_ ”

Harry felt more than saw Draco roll his eyes. A squeeze of his hand kept him from speaking. Harry didn’t think his snark would help them at the moment. “Because he’s my, um, boyfriend.”

“WHAT?!?” Ron screeched. The other Weasleys seemed nearly as shocked. Ginny was surprisingly composed and moved closer to Hermione. The two whispered back and forth for a moment. Ron was still fuming. “Since when? Did he use the Imperius Curse on you?”

“What? No! I’m not cursed.”

“Then why? Is this some sort of joke?”

“No--”

“Because it isn’t funny. I know you’re gay, but this is _Malfoy_ we’re talking about.”

“Ron--”

“I don’t understand why you’d want to be with _him_.”

“BECAUSE I LOVE HIM, ALRIGHT?” He couldn’t take it anymore. The stares, the interruptions, the disgust. It was too much.

Apparently, his outburst was a shock, since everyone fell silent. The only sounds were Harry’s ragged breathing and Ron’s choking. Finally, Arthur stepped forwards and patted Ron on the back.

“Why don’t you head inside and cool off for a bit, son?”

Ron nodded, but Harry didn’t miss the betrayed look on his face as he turned to leave. Once he disappeared, the tension dropped off significantly. Hermione hugged Pansy, and they began to talk loudly about their summers. Harry still didn’t understand how they became buddies so fast, but he wasn’t complaining. Arthur and Molly stood somewhat awkwardly, the former overwhelmed and the latter tight-lipped. The Delacours seemed utterly bewildered by the odd turn of events. Harry didn’t blame them.

Remus came up to shake Draco’s hand. “It’s good to see you, Draco.”

The blond smiled, not letting any discomfort show through his mask. “It’s good to see you, too. Congrats on your marriage.”

Remus smiled, though he looked troubled. Harry wondered what that was about. Was he still stuck on Sirius? It couldn’t be because he regretted his decision to marry Tonks, could it? They were so happy together. Harry would have to ask about it later. When Remus apparated back to their house with Tonks at his side, Fred and George wandered over.

“Hiya, Malfoy.”

“It seems you’ve seduced our favorite almost-brother.”

“Nicely done.”

“While we haven’t gotten along well in the past...”

“We’d like to start again.”

“You seem like the type of guy who could appreciate a good prank.”

“He means you’re a Slytherin.”

“If you’re interested--”

“We could hook you up with some of our newest merchandise.”

Draco smirked at the two. “I’m sure I could find use for your products. Harry’s told me all about your business, and I must say, I’m intrigued.

George--Harry knew because his ear was still bandaged--grinned. “As you should be.”

“Later, Malfoy,” they chorused before heading into the house. Pansy and Hermione walked over, both smiling.

“Well, that went well,” the Slytherin girl drawled.

Draco snorted. “The Weasel nearly passed out.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Okay, so that could have gone better. But there was no hexing or fist fights.” His stomach clenched each time he thought of the look on Ron’s face before he went inside. Only his hope that Ron would understand with time kept him from crumbling. He couldn’t stand the thought of his first real friend abandoning him. Ron was known for his quick temper and long recovery, so Harry wouldn’t hold his breath, but he trusted their friendship enough to give the redhead his time.

Hermione hugged Harry tightly. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered in his ear, sounding teary. Her overwhelming support was exactly what he needed, and he didn’t even mind the embarrassment reddening his cheeks.

“Thanks, ‘Mione. I’m glad it’s not a secret anymore.”

Draco raised a brow at him. “Too hard to keep your hands off me in public?”

“Of course. You _are_ rather irresistible.”

“That’s common knowledge. I just didn’t realize you were such an exhibitionist, Potter.”

“Well, love can drive people to do crazy things.”

“Mmm...perhaps we could pick up where we left off, in celebration of our newly public relationship?” Draco nuzzled into Harry’s cheek. There were a few conspicuous coughs as the remaining witnesses made their way inside. A single snort identified Pansy among them.

“I think I just might like that.”

They kissed until the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, the warm hues giving way to a starry sky. Despite the challenges to come, this moment was simple. Perfect. Draco was in his arms, his lips slotted between Harry’s. They were together again. Draco was safe. The horcrux was in the right hands. They no longer had to hide--no longer had to keep secrets. They were _kissing_. And Draco loved him.

Really, Harry couldn’t think of a better way to spend his birthday.


	13. Snakes in the Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back in the states! Europe was amazing, but it's wonderful to be home. Sorry this is posted a bit late (airplane w/o wifi). Hope you enjoy!

When they finally went inside, the atmosphere had calmed significantly. Molly was slaving away in the kitchen, working on last minute dishes for the wedding tomorrow. Harry knew that was her coping mechanism. When he was at the Dursleys’ over the summer, the chores they assigned became a sort of catharsis for him after Sirius’ death. The similarity made his heart ache. The Weasley brothers were in their respective rooms, including Ron, who was most likely still stewing. Ouro rested happily by the fireplace. Ginny, Pansy, and Hermione were talking and giggling in a pod on the floor of the living room, with Arthur reading in a chair nearby.

Harry was slightly surprised at how well the girls were getting on with Pansy. From the looks of it, they were more in tune with the Slytherin than they were with Gryffindor girls. He was starting to realize just how flawed House rivalries were. Ingrained in wizarding children from young ages, often even before school, they managed to build strong intra-House relationships by creating rifts between other students. In a way, he realized, they were the only reason Voldemort was a problem at all.

Students were continually placed in Houses based on their parentage, meaning purebloods congregated in Slytherin. The whole system perpetuated racism and negativity. Without other perspectives to broaden their minds, Slytherins grew up hearing the same diatribe against muggleborns until they too believed the bigotry they were taught.

Meanwhile, Harry could now accept, the Gryffindors were placed on a pedestal by most of the Hogwarts staff. It was like a caste system based on personality traits, and he had bought into it for far too long. It was so easy to get caught up in the victories of his own House. He often forgot how they affected the students around him. When Slytherin was snubbed in first year because of the many bonus points Dumbledore awarded Harry and his friends, he had cheered. Hell, the whole _school_ cheered...except the Slytherins.

Of course they would join Voldemort when they’d been treated like villains since they were eleven. Constantly being booed by the other Houses, and told how untrustworthy and dishonest they were meant to be. After years of that, it was hard to imagine any Slytherin would feel comfortable around others. Why wouldn’t they be interested in a society full of their peers? Of people who understood their struggle and didn’t judge them for the green on their robes?

Not to mention the fact that most were pressured to follow in their parents’ footsteps. Joining the side of the light would mean being at odds with their parents. If Harry was in that position, he doubted he’d be able to make the right choice. He was lucky his mentors stood with Dumbledore. Otherwise, his ideas might be just as messed up as Draco’s once were.

If they didn’t start building bridges instead of walls, people like Voldemort would only rise again and again--through weakness and hatred and petty rivalries. He was starting to understand what the Sorting Hat was getting at with inter-House unity.

When Ginny saw them enter, she came over to meet them. Her posture was relaxed, and she had a residual smile on her face, probably still laughing at something Pansy or Hermione said. She was eyeing them thoughtfully.

“Come to make a move on my boyfriend?” Draco asked. It was obviously a joke, but he took Harry’s hand anyways. The possessiveness should have bothered Harry, but he found it rather endearing.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Nothing of the sort. You two...” She laughed. “You’re good together, you know that? I never thought I’d say it, but you are.”

“Thanks, Weasley.” Draco squeezed Harry’s hand. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Her brows rose. “Because I’ve had a crush on Harry since I was eleven? People change. You of all people should know that. Only months ago you were fighting and cursing each other’s names.”

Draco smirked. “Potter puts up a good fight,” he drawled, “but he’s far more talented at _other_ things.”

Harry shoved him playfully. “Knock it off.”

“What? Can’t pay the love of my life a compliment?”

“Mmm...I love hearing you call me that.”

Draco’s eyes were bright, his lips pulled into an easy smile. It seemed his open, honest smiles grew more frequent as time went by.

Ginny snorted. “I wasn’t expecting you two to be such saps.”

“Shut up. We’re in love.”

“I gathered. Malfoy, mind if I steal your man for a few minutes?”

Draco glared threateningly, but stepped away. Harry watched him pick Ouro up off the warm tiles and sit down next to Pansy. Faint hissing sounds exchanged between them brought a smile to his face.

“Walk with me, Harry?”

He nodded, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the sight before him. They stepped out of the front door and strolled lazily through the grass. The stars were bright in the darkness. Harry couldn’t see them now without thinking of Draco. He wondered if he could get a lesson on constellations later. It would be nice to know Draco’s constellation was there, even if the boy himself was absent. The thought was a small comfort given the amount of time they’d be apart, but a comfort nonetheless.

“For years, I was certain we’d end up together,” Ginny said after a while. She too was looking at the stars. Her hair was liquid fire in the moonlight, the breeze blowing it across her freckled cheeks.

Harry smiled. “Everyone else seemed to think so, too.”

“I was starstruck. You were older. The Boy Who Lived.” She exhaled in what sounded like a sad laugh. “You saved my life. And then we got to know each other, and it was clear you didn’t have much of an interest in me. So I moved on--dated around. But then last year, I started to wonder if maybe you felt the same way. Now I know for sure you don’t, and it’s almost nice. I've been happy with people before, but the fact that you were there always made them seem like backups. Knowing there’ll never be anything between you and me...well, it makes me think I could really care about someone for the first time.”

“Dean?”

She grinned. “No. While he’s fun to hang around with, and an excellent snogger, he’s had eyes for Seamus for years. His denial is amusing, but I think I’ll confront him about it when I end things.” Dean’s strange behavior now made a lot more sense. “When I find the person I want to spend my life with, I want them to have eyes only for me.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. You deserve to be happy, Gin.” He laughed a little. “You know, before Draco, I thought I might like you too. You were one of the few girls I enjoyed spending time with, and knowing you liked me made me wonder if I could like you back. I was convinced I did for a while.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Draco.”

“Ah,” she said softly.

“I was never really interested in girls, but I didn’t think much of it. Part of me knew something was a little off, but I assumed if I found the right girl, things would be different. There was Cho, but kissing her...well, Hermione said that’s when she realized I was gay. Apparently my reaction wasn’t exactly enthusiastic. And then for a while I thought I liked you. But when Draco came along, I felt all those things I was supposed to feel around girls. It was terrifying, because he was a boy, and he was _Malfoy_ , but I couldn’t deny my feelings. Hermione helped me accept my sexuality, and talking with Dumbledore and Remus made me realize it was okay to like Draco, too.”

“You talk to Dumbledore about your love life?” Ginny exclaimed, eyes wide. Harry laughed.

“Not usually. I probably wouldn’t have talked to Remus either, but they both noticed and asked me about it.”

“You always were rather obvious about your feelings. It’s a wonder the whole school didn’t know.” She fell silent, pulling up a long blade of grass and twisting it between her fingers as she walked. Harry waited for her to speak. He could tell there was something on her mind. “I guess it’s a good thing Malfoy came along then. It’s better to know things wouldn’t work between us now than after we were married with kids of our own.”

Harry laughed. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? Because that picture would have sounded reasonable last year. And now it just seems ridiculous.”

Ginny glared through her amusement. “You don’t have to mock my retired dream-future.”

“It’s not you, it’s just...your anatomy.” They both broke out into laughter then. Their loop around the house was complete, so they sat on the steps. Ginny rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’m happy for you. You seem so alive around him. Even after you told us you loved him, I couldn’t quite picture it, but seeing you two together just now...I can see how much he cares about you, and you him. That’s what a relationship should be like.” She snorted. “Who would have thought you and Malfoy would be relationship goals?”

Harry laughed quietly before sobering. “Thanks, Gin. It means a lot that you’re okay with this.”

She nodded, her hair brushing against his neck. “I wouldn’t worry about Ron. He’ll come around. He really cares about you, he’s just a git sometimes.”

“I know. And your parents? Any idea how they’ll take it?”

Ginny frowned. “Dad will be fine. And Mum...she could really go either way. I think she still holds a grudge against Lucius after the diary--I know I do--and she might carry some of that resentment over to Malfoy. But she loves you, and there’s no way this could change that. It just might take her some getting used to is all.”

Harry didn’t respond, contemplating her words. It had been a long time since he thought about the fact that he was dating a Malfoy. In his mind, Draco separated from that image the day they got back to school. _Malfoy_ was cold and emotionless. Draco cried in Harry’s arms. Malfoy was a Junior Death Eater, and Draco would rather be anything else. He hadn’t thought about what it would mean for the Weasleys. Lucius was responsible for Ginny’s near death. Draco’s entire family mocked them for their economic status. Harry sighed.

“Sometimes I wish I could’ve fallen for you. Things would be a lot easier.”

Ginny rubbed circles on his back with her thumb. “I know. But the best things in life are the hardest to come by. Our relationship never would have worked. It’s too easy. We’ve basically grown up together. It wouldn’t be long before we stopped offering a challenge to each other.”

“I never thought about it that way.” Then he grinned. “Draco definitely offers up a challenge.”

Ginny laughed. “That he does.” They stayed out a few minutes longer before wandering back inside. He felt happier than he had all summer. He and Draco were finally on the path to acceptance. The next stop, however, would be the biggest challenge. Harry nodded to the others before making his way upstairs to talk to Ron.

He knocked once he reached the fifth floor. “Go away,” came a muffled voice.

“Ron, it’s me. We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Please?”

There was a pause. “Is the ferret there?”

Harry sighed, exasperated, but amused. “No, he’s not.”

“Fine. Come in.”

Harry eased the door open slowly, as if the boy inside might attack him like a feral animal. Harry crept over and lay down on his bed. Ron was buried under his covers, a mop of red hair sticking out at the top.

“Ron, you’re being petty,” Harry said after a while.

“’M not. I’m the sane one. They’ll be coming by to take you to St. Mungo’s within the hour.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Hiding won’t make Draco go away.”

“Don’t call him that,” he whined.

“Why not? It’s his name.”

“It’s just...weird. He’s Malfoy.”

“Ron, the name doesn’t matter. Just talk to me about what’s wrong, alright?”

After a few more seconds of grumbling, a scowling face popped out of the covers. “Hermione knew.”

“Yes, she did.”

“We’re supposed to be best mates! And you told her before you told me?”

“I didn’t tell her. She figured it out.”

Ron deflated, laughing weakly. “Course she did. Should’ve been in Ravenclaw, that one.” Harry smiled. “It’s just...he’s evil! He calls Hermione the ‘m’ word, and he’s been our enemy since first year. How can you forget all that?”

“He’s different now. I don’t expect you to understand, because you don’t know him like I do, but he’s not the person we thought. He’s just as trapped in his fate as I am. He doesn’t want to be a Death Eater. And he doesn’t hate muggleborns anymore--he’s still not their biggest proponent or anything, but he doesn’t use slurs. Actually, he and Hermione have been getting on really well.”

“Are _they_ shagging, too?” Ron grumbled. Harry blushed bright red.

“We’re not--nevermind.”

Ron cracked a grin for the first time. “You haven’t yet?”

“No.”

“I’d have thought you’d be trying to get into his pants ages ago. He’s an attractive bloke.”

Harry blushed even more, if that was even possible. “I thought you were supposed to be the straight one.”

Ron made a choking noise in the back of his throat, but recovered quickly. “Well, he _is_. Even straight guys notice when other blokes are attractive.”

“Thanks, Ron. So now I have your heterosexual approval of my boyfriend’s attractiveness. Does that mean you’re okay with this?”

“I don’t--I don’t know, mate. I mean, you’re still my best friend--nothing could change that--but I don’t like him. You may have gotten to know him better, but I haven’t.”

“That’s fine. All I’m asking is that you give him a chance.”

Ron nodded, thinking to himself. “You really love him?”

Harry smiled. “Yes, Ron. I really do. God, it’s so ridiculous, but I do.”

There was a long pause. “Alright. If you feel that strongly about him, I guess I can be openminded. As long as you don’t snog him in front of me.”

“That’s a tough promise to make.”

Ron paled suddenly. “Wait-- _is he going to be sleeping in here?_ ”

“Er...I hadn’t thought about it, but probably?”

“GAH!”

Harry laughed then. He couldn’t help himself. Soon, Ron joined in. They hugged, patting each other on the back, before stepping back rather awkwardly.

“Right. Well, uh, wanna go downstairs?”

Harry felt a grin stretch across his face and he took the steps two at a time. Even though they had a long ways to go, this was a start. Things were slowly getting back to normal. Or rather, they were slowly becoming a new normal.

When they entered the living room, Pansy, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco were still sitting by the fire. Ginny grinned at them.

“Did you convince my brother to stop sulking in his room?”

“I was not sulking!” Ron protested, ears turning pink. “I was processing.”

“Merlin knows _that_ takes him a while,” Draco said, but he was smiling.

Ron narrowed his eyes before realizing the joke was in good fun. “Alright, alright. I’m over it, okay? What are we doing now?”

Draco and Hermione scooted apart to make room for them. Harry plopped down beside Draco, and proceeded to rest his head on the taller boy’s shoulder. Their fingers intertwined and Ouro slithered around the joined hands.

 _“Someone’s been practicing,”_ the snake hissed.

Draco smirked. _“I'll be as good as Harry soon enough.”_

“He’s a Parseltongue too?!?” Ron asked.

Harry laughed. “No, I've been teaching him.”

Hermione frowned. “I didn't realize it was teachable.”

Ron still looked put out. “You never taught me...”

“You were never interested.”

“Well, yeah, since it's considered a dark skill.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “And you wonder why Harry ended up with a Slytherin. Honestly, you can't just ignore the Dark Arts. By stigmatizing their usage, we lose beneficial skills and isolate people who have them.”

Hermione sat up straighter, intrigued. “I've never thought of it that way. You're right, though. Practices like talking to snakes shouldn't be frowned upon simply because Voldemort could do it. Magic isn't innately evil, except maybe the killing curse...”

“Even that,” Draco interjected, “could be used for noble purposes, such as putting down pets that are in pain, or assisted suicide for the elderly.”

“That's true! It all depends on intent. Using both light and dark magic creates a--”

“Balance.”

“Precisely!”

Ron and Harry exchanged knowing looks as the two continued their ethics discussion. Harry looked around at his friends, talking and laughing together, and sighed in contentment. Everything was going to be alright.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Draco woke in a surprisingly good mood. Despite the Weasel sleeping only a bed away, or the fact that he was in a _den_ of Weasels, he couldn’t fight the smile creeping onto his face. An arm was draped across his chest, legs twisting with his in the sheets. Harry’s head rested on his shoulder, with black hair brushing against his chin. He inhaled the scent of grass and broom polish and laundry. It reminded him of the amortentia in Potions class so long ago. At the time, he never would have imagined he’d be this close to the object of his affections. And those affections only seemed to grow stronger the closer her got. He sighed in contentment.

The boy sprawled on top of him began to stir. “Wha...?”

Draco kissed the dark head of hair. “Morning, love.”

Harry smiled then, nuzzling into Draco’s neck. “I like waking up next to you.”

“Next to? You’re practically making me your teddy bear.” Not that he minded. In fact, he was so very appreciative of the simple occurrence. He had slept better last night than he had since Christmas at Grimmauld. There was one conspicuous commonality.

The night before, Mrs. Weasley suggested Draco take Percy’s room. The Weasel nodded enthusiastically, but Harry stepped in and helpfully offered that he wouldn’t mind sharing. The flustered expression on the Weasley matron’s face was enough to make it worth it. Waking up in Harry’s arms was, admittedly, a major bonus.

“I like my Draco teddy bear.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You’re very Hufflepuff in the mornings.”

“Not usually. Just this morning.”

“Why? Weddings make you feel romantic?”

Harry laughed. “No, but cuddling with my boyfriend does.”

“Hmm...if that’s the case, we may have to limit your exposure to my cuddly self. I like you better with some Slytherin in you. You might scare Salazar off with this behavior.”

“I don’t even know where to begin with that metaphor.”

Draco pulled him even closer, burying his face in that gorgeous mess of hair. “This must be kept a secret, you know.”

“What?” He sounded alarmed, and shifted abruptly.

“My love of cuddling. Ruins the reputation.”

Harry relaxed, sighing into Draco’s chest. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“’S not,” said a mumbled voice from the bed over. “I’m here too. And I will happily share with the whole school that Draco Malfoy is the world’s biggest cuddler if you two don’t shut up this instant.”

Harry grinned. “Need your beauty rest, Ron?”

“Lost cause,” Draco muttered. The two tangled bodies began shaking with laughter. The muffled scream from pile of blankets across the room only made them laugh harder. It was a while before they left the bedroom that morning.

 

“This meal is exquisite, Mrs. Weasley.” Pansy sat across from Draco at the breakfast table. The woman blushed at the praise, waving her hands in dismissal. Her children rolled their eyes.

“It’s nothing, dear, truly. And call me Molly, if you will.” It seemed Slytherin charm went a long ways in this house.

Harry and Ginevra were in a discussion about the Chudley Cannons, with Ronald jumping in at intervals. Draco found that calling all of the Weasleys _Weasley_ in his head was too confusing in the current situation, but that using their traditional names made addressing them far easier. It reminded him of the parties his parents threw, in which all greetings were formal, and manners mattered more than actual feelings. Not to mention the fact that it clearly grated on their nerves.

While he had grown not to _despise_ the two youngest Weasleys less in the last twelve hours, his lip curled at the thought of addressing them congenially. Harry looked amused at his attempts to distance himself from the red headed family. This resulted in Draco kicking him under the table. Pansy, of course, didn’t mind calling the lot by their first names. Oddly enough, she still addressed the muggleborn as Granger, despite their friendliness. The two were immersed in a discussion about something or another, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts.

He used the time to take in the house around him. It was small, especially for a family of their size. Draco’s own house was at least ten times as large, and it was only him and his parents, plus their staff of House Elves. The Burrow obviously wasn’t _nearly_ as nice as the Manor, with much of its furniture worn or homemade. Years ago, he might have scoffed at the sight. Now, he couldn’t help but feel like _this_ was what a home should be.

Throughout his life, he thought everything he had was the best. His father told him so. He had the nicest clothes, the most expensive toys, the rarest books. The Malfoys had status and clout. They were always the most put-together, and they never faltered in their masks. For years, Draco thought that meant they were the best. But the only thing they were the best at was putting on a show. It was all an act--an expensive production, but an act all the same. Where the Burrow was warm and cozy, the Manor was cold and foreboding. Where Molly and Arthur were loving, his mother and father were _polite_. Only now did he realize the extent of the difference. It was almost comical how it took seeing the Weasleys’ ramshackle home to make him realize what he had missed.

He wondered what it would be like to grow up here. As an only child, the thought of having so many children in the house was an intriguing one. Would it be harder to get attention? Or would the attention from other children make up for the lack of it from the parents? He could imagine nights by the fireplace, joking openly or talking about each other’s days. Coming down in the mornings to pranks from the twins. Opening one of those dreadful sweaters at Christmas. The mental images made his heart ache, though he’d never admit it. And then he wondered at the prospect of being jealous of the Weasel.

Perhaps they were poor, and blood traitors at that, but they truly loved each other. They even opened their home to Pansy and Draco, despite their misgivings. It was clear Harry had a place here, too. Draco’s mother loved him, and in his own way, his father did as well, but their love was subtle, like a candle. The Weasleys loved like a raging fire, or perhaps a hearth. They spread it to everyone who surrounded them, and didn’t worry about who saw. Draco wondered if that was what his father witnessed when he looked at them--if perhaps lying beneath blood status and social class was a certain fear. Because if you weren’t a part of their fire, it burned.

The Malfoys were strong in name, but the Weasleys, loathe to admit, were strong in spirit. And seeing it from the inside, he felt a grudging sense of respect.

“Ginny, pass the jam, please?” Draco ignored the look of pride on Harry’s face. Honestly, it was just a name.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Bill and Fleur’s wedding was beautiful. As they kissed on the altar, Harry couldn’t help but imagine him and Draco standing there one day. He quickly shoved the thought from his mind, as he was barely seventeen, but the image made him smile nonetheless.

Draco and Pansy decided to stay for the ceremony, though they were forced to use Polyjuice along with Harry to disguise themselves. As the Weasleys had such a large extended family, no one paid heed to the additional red headed relatives. Molly was teary and sniffling the entire time, and even Ginny, Fleur’s biggest challenge in terms of acceptance, looked happy. All of the guests in attendance appeared to be overjoyed at the union. Harry wondered if all weddings were like this, or if perhaps the threat of war made each small triumph more meaningful.

“Remus, are you alright?” The man was lost in thought, a frown drawing down the corners of his lips. He looked at Harry, startled.

“Fine, Harry.” His voice was tired and sad, and it was clear his weak smile was forced.

Harry set his drink down. “You’re not. What’s wrong?”

Remus sighed. “Tonks is pregnant.”

“That’s great!” He couldn’t understand what the problem was.

The man shook his head sadly. “Harry, that child will be born with werewolf blood. I can’t give my curse to an innocent child.”

“Remus, you can’t change that now. What would you do about it?”

The werewolf looked down into his glass, avoiding eye contact. “Leave.”

“What?”

“Part of me thinks I should just remove myself from her life--she’d be better off without me. It’s my fault her child will be born with lycanthropy, and it’s my fault she’ll forever live in the shadow that brings. I’ve done enough damage already.”

“Are you insane?” Harry’s knuckles were white as he clenched the table edge. “Running away won’t solve anything! That baby belongs to both of you. If you think leaving her to raise it on her own is the best thing for everyone, you’re wrong. I know what it’s like growing up without my parents. And if either of them had left willingly, I would never have forgiven them. Do you understand that?” He hadn’t meant to get so angry, but he was. And when Remus stared at him like he’d been slapped, he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty.

“I-I--I see your point.”

“Good. You can’t just run away like that.”

Remus deflated. “Thank you, Harry.” The boy only nodded. Remus pulled him into a hug, and when he spoke again, his voice was raw, “I think you’ve stopped me from making a grave mistake.” When they broke away, he was looking at Harry thoughtfully. “It’s rather early to decide such a thing, but would you be the child’s godfather?”

Green eyes widened. “Me? I...I’d love to, Remus. It would be an honor. Thank you.”

“You’re the reason I’ll get to see my child grow up. It’s the least you deserve.”

Harry still couldn’t quite believe it, but he nodded slowly. “Thanks, Remus.”

The man smiled kindly, squeezing Harry’s shoulder once before walking off. Draco quickly filled his vacated spot.

“Pans and I have to head out now, before anyone notices we’re missing. Blaise is covering for us, but there’s only so much time we can ‘spend in his room’ before people get suspicious.”

Harry nodded, feeling the need to touch Draco--to feel his presence before he was ripped away again. To kiss him. But he couldn’t. Not in these disguises in front of all these people. His throat tightened when he realized he wouldn’t get to say a real goodbye. He swallowed. “See you in a month.”

Draco’s lips were in a tight line, but his chin flicked up in acknowledgement. “Bye, Harry.”

“I love you.”

The Slytherin smiled softly, the expression strange on his foreign features. “I love you, too.” And then he was off to find Pansy so they could depart. Harry felt like part of him was wrenched out when he heard the distant pop of their apparition.

Ron laid a hand on his shoulder. “You alright, mate?”

Harry forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

“Come on, lets get you some more cake.” Harry gratefully followed his friend to the dessert table. God, he was such a lovesick idiot. He appreciated that Ron didn’t mention it. Really, he couldn’t have asked for a better best mate.


	14. Deathly Hallows

Draco was quiet as they worked on the Vanishing Cabinet. It was the first Friday since getting back, and it was clear something was off. Harry was expecting a reunion similar to the one at the Burrow, though preferably without the entire Weasley family watching. Instead, he got short answers and very little eye contact. Their kiss was chaste, and Harry felt like he’d done something wrong, though he couldn’t for the life of him think what it was. Knowing how stubborn Draco could be when he was in a mood, he decided not to bring it up and wait for the blond to cool.

Returning to Hogwarts was different this year. The welcome back feast was less chatter-filled. The cheering during the Sorting ceremony was subdued. It seemed everyone could sense the war happening around them, even while protected at Hogwarts. Muggle families were killed left and right, with relatives of muggleborns being targeted specifically. Some of the Slytherins didn’t return, leaving to join Voldemort’s forces, and their absence was felt by every House. Hermione was less cheery since Obliviating her parents, but when either Harry or Ron brought it up, she simply said ‘it was the right thing to do’. It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than them.

Watching Dumbledore give his speech was agony. Knowing it would be his last. Knowing it would be the last time Harry listened to a welcome back speech at Hogwarts. In a way, he was glad it was his last year. He could barely stomach the idea of seeing someone else at Dumbledore’s podium. And it seemed fitting for everything to come to a close all at once.

The most troubling thing of all, however, was Draco. Harry was sick of being ignored. Even when they were fighting Draco gave him more attention than he had the past week. They shared Potions and Charms, and Draco didn’t speak the entire time--not even to taunt him like they usually did to keep up the ruse. Harry found himself on the offensive, trailing after the Slytherin like a lost puppy, wishing for a fake fight just for some interaction. Anything it took to shed some light on what was going on inside his head. Draco merely dismissed everything with a halfhearted comeback or an eye roll. He’d taken to dragging Crabbe and Goyle around with him again to fight his fights for him.

Despite how annoying it was, Harry’s strongest emotion was concern. Draco was drawing into himself, and Harry knew from fifth year how dangerous that could be. He wished he could just talk to him, but it was impossible to get away until now. And this was no better than any of their other encounters since returning. Had something happened over the summer? Was he angry at Harry? Or was this about something else entirely? The frustrating thing about Draco’s current behavior was that the questions had no answers. Until the Slytherin decided to start talking, all Harry could do was wonder and worry.

Draco was meticulously working on the cabinet, his eyes downcast. As Harry studied him, it became clear what bad shape he was in. His mouth was drawn into a frown and his brows furrowed to create a small ‘u’ in the center. Dark bags hung below his eyes like bruises against his pale skin. He was thinner than usual as well; his expertly tailored clothes now hung loosely around his spidery limbs. Harry was almost certain Draco had been pushing more food around than he was consuming, but seeing the proof was startling. His worries intensified.

“How was your summer?” Harry asked, unable to stand the silence any longer.

Draco sneered. It was a sight he was no longer accustomed to, and it made him recoil slightly. “Peachy.”

The cabinet door shut with a bang. It took Harry a moment to realize he’d slammed it. He barely noticed. His eyes were locked on Draco, who was still avoiding eye contact.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Potter.”

“That’s a load of crap.”

Draco gripped the table edge, jaw clenched, eyes staring straight ahead.

“Look at me, dammit!” Harry wasn’t sure when his annoyance became anger, but now he couldn’t slow down. Draco was his companion. He was supposed to talk to him. He was supposed to be excited to see him. For a moment, Harry almost wanted to laugh. When had Draco fucking Malfoy ever done what he was supposed to do?

Grey eyes finally fastened on his. They flashed, like lightning. The irises were filled with electric energy--storm clouds. Harry stared back just as fiercely. It reminded him of that first dinner after they switched, when they glared at each other across the Great Hall. He thought they were past all that. Apparently not. Maybe when the love of your life was Draco Malfoy you never really got past ‘all that’.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Harry demanded.

“I’m not your house-elf, Potter, I don’t have to do what you say.”

“I’m not ordering you like a servant. I’m asking something of you, because I care. Which I have the full right to do.”

“Says who?” Draco yelled, voice cracking. “Because I don’t remember giving you fucking permission to rip my chest open and pull out my _feelings_!”

“That’s what love is! Giving someone else access to your heart! Becoming _vulnerable_! Sharing your pain!”

Draco sneered again, almost like he was trying to readjust to the expression after all this time. “Then maybe the Dark Lord is right, because love sucks.”

Suddenly the anger was too much. Harry felt part of his heart break, biting off a sob that wanted to tear its way out of his chest. “Draco, please.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Just _talk_ to me!”

Draco’s chin wobbled, a tear rolling down his pale cheeks. “I can’t.”

Harry growled, frustration momentarily overtaking sympathy. “Yes, you can. If you love me, then you can do this.” Was this always how it was going to be? Draco harboring his feelings until they tore them both apart? Harry loved him, but if they couldn’t discuss their issues, there was no way their relationship could ever work. His chest tightened painfully. “Unless that was a lie?”

“I wasn’t a lie,” Draco said firmly.

“Then talk.”

The Slytherin tore at his hair, a gesture he seemed to do a lot now that he no longer used gel. “I don’t know what to say!”

“Try,” Harry begged, feeling like he was calming a wild animal.

Draco’s breathing was ragged and quick, his eyes wide. “I don’t know, okay?” He looked away again, eyes focused on the Vanishing Cabinet. “I’m just...I’m so sick of all of it! I’m sick of pretending everything’s okay when it’s not. I’m sick of the Dark Lord, and my aunt, and my father. I’m sick of feeling like my head’s being sorted through like a file cabinet. First Voldemort with Legilimency, and now you with your proclamations of concern. I’m just sick of this stupid war getting in the way of my life. And _you!_ You act as though everything’s normal. Like I can just snog my boyfriend and forget about the fact that I’m going to have to kill someone before I graduate! That’s not something I can just ignore!”

Harry stared, mouth opening and closing without sound. He finally forced out the only thing he could think of to say. “This _is_ normal for me. I’ve had Voldemort after me since I was a baby. I fought him again when I was eleven. My entire life has been shaped by him, so yeah, this is normal.” From the flash of anger he received in return, he figured that was the wrong thing to say.

“Of course it is. You’re Saint Potter,” Draco spat. “But this isn’t normal for me. I’m not you.”

“No, you’re not. You have your own things to deal with. We’re playing different roles, but we’re part of the same war. I know what it’s like to feel like everything’s out of my control. To have to do things I don’t want to do. I understand all that. But you can’t stop living because of it.”

“Why not?” His eyes were wide and darting from side to side like he was searching for the answer in a book.

“Because the war will end. And if you throw everything away because you can’t cope, then there’ll be nothing left for you when it does. You can come out of this stronger. You can come out of this with friends and connections that matter. Or you can let everything fall apart and try to assemble a life from the ashes.” Harry stepped closer, trying to catch Draco’s eye once more. “We can fight this battle together, but _we_ can’t happen if only one of us is working for it.”

Draco bit his lip, looking weakly up at Harry. “I want us to work. I want everything to be fine.” He broke off, swallowing hard. “But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay.”

And with that, Harry’s anger melted. He erased the distance between them and pulled the other boy into a tight embrace. Draco all but collapsed in his arms. “You don’t have to.” Harry rubbed circles on his back with his thumb. “You don’t have to pretend--not for me. Not ever.” The blond head nodded, nose brushing against Harry’s neck. “I love you, okay? Just...please don’t shut me out.” They stayed that way for a while, rocking slightly back and forth.

“I missed you,” Draco said quietly.

Harry laughed. “I missed you, too, you wanker.”

When they kissed, it made up for the previous one. Harry tasted tears and _Draco_ , and it was wonderful. How he ever existed without this, he didn’t know. It was funny, looking back on his kiss with Cho. He thought it was bad because she was crying. Now he knew that wasn’t the case. Draco was crying, and it only made him force their lips together harder. He wanted to fill every dark corner of Draco’s heart until all the tears were gone. He wanted to end that sadness, whatever it took.

“You know,” Draco said when they separated, serious once more, “I’m never going to be able to talk about how I feel. My upbringing...well, it wasn’t conducive to openness or honesty. The idea of sharing things so personal terrifies me. The thought of admitting weakness is even worse. Father would punish me if he saw me tonight.”

“It’s okay to cry.”

“I know. It’s just...it’ll take some getting used to. I thought you should know that I’ll try. But don’t get your hopes up. I don’t know if I can open up like you want me to.”

Harry smiled. “You’re doing it right now.” Draco looked bewildered for a moment, before laughing slightly. “See, it’s not that hard.”

“Potter, it took me screaming at you and breaking down into tears for me to tell you just that much.”

“It’s enough.”

Green eyes met grey, identical smiles tugging at their lips. In that moment, everything was perfect. There was vulnerability, love, and honesty. Even if Draco had a ways to go before he could be open with him all the time, it was a start. Harry knew how much it took for him to say what he had, and he appreciated getting to hear it. He wondered at his fortune: he was the one that could see into the heart of this beautiful boy, when so many only saw a mask. It made him feel warm and loved and special, in a way that being _Harry Potter_ never did.

They finally broke eye contact at the sound of a soft chirping. Harry looked around for the source of the noise. When the chirp came again, his eyes were drawn to the Cabinet. Draco realized the same time Harry did, and pulled the door open. A bird flew out, disappearing into the towers of knick knacks and furniture.

Harry’s eyes flicked to Draco, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. The way his eyes went wide with fear before dulling in resignation. “It’s fixed.”

Those words, so somber and final, made Harry’s stomach drop. This was it. The Vanishing Cabinet was repaired, and Voldemort knew. They couldn’t stall anymore. Draco would have to kill Dumbledore. Another member of Harry’s almost-family gone. His throat felt thick and his knees weak. When they embraced, it was impossible to tell who was doing the comforting. Perhaps it was a little of both.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Sitting in Dumbledore’s office fifteen minutes later, Draco couldn’t feel anything but Harry’s presence at his side. Their hands were interlocked between them, and that touch was the only thing grounding him. He found it was easier to shut off his emotions when faced with things he couldn’t control. An extension of the Malfoy mask--it just had to cut a little deeper. Harry was coping in his own way, jaw hard and eyes bright, like he wanted to destroy whoever was responsible for placing them in this mess. Draco didn’t want to think about whether or not that was him.

It was a little past midnight, and exhaustion was affecting everyone. Dumbledore was the only person sitting, hands steepled on his desk, tired eyes lidded behind his half-moon spectacles. His gnarled appendage looked hideous compared to the healthy one. It seemed the affliction had spread, creeping up into his robes. Draco could swear he saw a hint of charred flesh beneath the man’s collar. Surely it wasn’t already at his neck? Beady eyes looked out from the phoenix perched on his shoulder, as if making up for the Headmaster’s sleep deprived lack of awareness.

Severus stood in the corner, arms crossed. His scowl was more pronounced than usual, and pajama bottoms peeked out from beneath his robes. Draco missed his self-proclaimed godfather. They hadn’t gotten a chance to speak since getting back to Hogwarts, and there was a lot he wanted to say. Thinking of the scent of chamomile tea and the worn cushions of Sev’s room made his heart ache. It was a comfort he sorely missed during his time at the Manor, as he did every summer. This summer, however, was far worse, and the catharsis of talking to Severus suddenly felt more important than air.

“If Voldemort knows the Vanishing Cabinet is fixed, then we are out of time,” Dumbledore said once they finished summarizing. “Mister Malfoy, write to your father that the event will take place just before the Christmas holiday. I will sort out all of my affairs by then. As should you, since you will unfortunately not be welcomed back onto the grounds once the deed is done.”

Draco nodded stiffly, realizing for the first time how his actions would look. He would be charged with murder, if ever caught. Which meant he couldn’t get caught. And the only foreseeable way of achieving that was by standing at Voldemort’s side. But what of his case once the war ended? Would he be imprisoned for his crimes? Or would he be acquitted for his motives? If the Ministry knew he never truly stood with Voldemort, would he be set free? He flinched when he noted his mental usage of the Dark Lord’s name. When had that happened? He realized the Headmaster was still speaking.

“...the Order will be notified, and will arrive to quell the attack. Perhaps some members of my famous Army you so kindly organized would be interested?” he asked, eyeing Harry, who nodded. “Good, good. Now, there are some things I must explain to you before my time is up.” Dumbledore pulled out a sheet of parchment, using his quill to sketch a shape. It was a triangle with a line and a circle inside. “Have either of you heard of the Deathly Hallows?”

Draco raised a brow, a gesture that made him feel more like himself. “Of course. Mother told me the fairytale when I was a child.”

Harry sat forwards. “What are they?”

Dumbledore looked down at the parchment, pointing at each symbol as he recited. “The Cloak of Invisibility, the Resurrection Stone, and the Elder Wand.”

Harry’s brows furrowed. “Invisibility Cloak?”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Yes. You are familiar with it?” His words were knowing, and Harry grinned.

“I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, I believe Voldemort is after the Elder Wand.”

Harry looked at the symbol in bemusement. “What is it exactly?”

“The Elder Wand is the most powerful wand in the world,” Draco told him.

Dumbledore looked at Draco appraisingly. “Indeed.”

Harry’s eyes flashed with understanding. “Where is it hidden? Are we going after it tonight?”

The Headmaster smiled mysteriously. “Who said anything about being hidden?” He drew his wand, setting it delicately on the table. Draco gasped. “The Elder Wand is particular in its loyalties. Draco, when you disarm me, the wand’s loyalties will shift to you.”

“To me?” Draco didn’t understand how the man was trusting him with so much power.

“Yes. Voldemort will collect the wand, but he will not be able to access its full magic unless he disarms you. Our only hope is that he won’t figure it out. I fear he might attempt to kill you in order to gain the power if he becomes aware of the situation.” Draco felt Harry’s hand squeeze his tighter at that. “I suggest you plan ahead so as to avoid that fate. Your ownership of the wand could be put to your advantage, if used correctly.”

Draco nodded, mind already running through the possibilities.

“What of the horcruxes, sir?” Harry asked.

Dumbledore reached into his drawer and pulled out a journal, a ring, and the locket. “Two have already been destroyed, and the locket is in our possession, thanks to you, Mister Malfoy. I believe six were created. My guess is that he chose an item of Rowena Ravenclaw’s and Helga Hufflepuff’s, as well as his snake Nagini.”

Draco frowned. “Can a living thing be made into a horcrux?”

“I believe so.” His eyes were distant as he spoke, as if thinking back to a memory. The phoenix on his shoulder ruffled its feathers, snapping him back to the present.

“But sir,” Harry started, “Why wouldn’t he use something of Godric Gryffindor’s?”

“Because there is only one known artifact, and it is very well protected.”

“The sword,” Harry replied.

“Yes. Severus is looking after it for the time being.” Draco looked up at the Potions master. He was standing so still he’d forgotten he was there. “We discovered it can destroy horcruxes, so please keep that in mind. As for one of the unknown horcruxes, my guess is that he used Hufflepuff’s Cup.”

“Where is it?”

Dumbledore sighed. “That, I do not know. It is said to be golden, with a badger on the side and two handles.”

“It’s in my aunt’s vault,” Draco said. The other two stared at him. “Bellatrix Lestrange. I was with her when she retrieved something from Gringotts over the summer. The cup you described is in there.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Well done, Mister Malfoy. Now all that’s left is an object from Ravenclaw. I trust you can do the research on your own?” The boys nodded. “If that is the case, I believe we are done for the night. Severus, thank you for coming at this hour. Draco, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with you alone for a moment.”

Harry and Severus left the room, leaving Draco standing awkwardly. His hand felt cold where Harry’s used to be. When Dumbledore motioned that he take a seat, he did so gratefully.

“What’s on your mind, Mister Malfoy?”

Draco didn’t answer, uncomfortable sharing his feelings with the man he would have to kill. Instead, he asked, “What’s your phoenix’s name?”

“Fawkes. Did Harry tell you about him?” Draco shook his head. “No, of course not. Harry was never one to brag about his achievements.” Draco wondered what the man was referring to. Probably one of Harry’s reckless adventures that earned Gryffindor last minute House points for breaking hundreds of rules.

“He’s beautiful.” The creature ducked its head as if in response to the compliment. They sat in silence for a while.

“I don’t hold your task against you, you know.”

Draco bit his lip, a habit his father tried to knock out of him years ago. “Why do you trust me?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“I’m a Slytherin. I have the Dark Mark. I’m a Malfoy. The reasons are endless.”

Dumbledore smiled kindly. “Severus is a Slytherin. He also bears the Dark Mark. And I would trust him with my life.”

“But why?”

“Because this is a brutal war, with children sacrificed as no more than pawns or cannon fodder. You are still a boy, and you’re being forced to grow up too fast.” Dumbledore’s gaze was heavy, and Draco couldn’t force himself to speak. “It’s okay to be scared, my boy. But understand that this doesn’t have to change you. Taking a life is always hard, if you are human at all, but you can get through it. It may not feel helpful now, but when all is said and done, remember that I do not hold you at fault. What might have, in another life, been your greatest mistake, is what will make you a hero.”

“I’m not a hero. I don’t have bravery, or honor.”

“There’s more to you than you think.”

Draco shook his head. “If it wasn’t for Harry, I would never have told you of the task. I would have killed you in cold blood.”

Dumbledore met his gaze. “I don’t think you would have. I think you would have tried, and been unable to go through with it. I imagine Severus would complete your task for you, as he cares for you deeply. But despite your failure to kill me, I doubt you ever would have forgiven yourself for planning to.”

“Then how is this better?” he asked, eyes wide with childlike terror.

“Because, Draco, you are doing it for the right reasons. Actions are not good or bad, but motives can be.” The words sounded reminiscent of Draco’s discussion with Granger on the balance of light and dark magic. How the Killing Curse could be used for the right reasons. The connection eased some of his guilt, but his fear remained.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“I believe you can. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“No,” he said bitterly. “I’m a coward. Just like my father.”

“You are nothing like your father. Despite your insistence that Harry is responsible for your switch to the light, you still made the choice in the end. Just because you had assistance does not mean you shouldn’t be given credit for your actions. We all need a little help sometimes. We are weakest alone.” Dumbledore looked deep in thought as he said, “I think you’ll find that, given a worthy cause, you can be very brave indeed. Remember that.” The man reached up to stroke Fawkes’ red feathers, and the bird nuzzled into the touch. “You are dismissed.”

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

It was a few months later, and Harry was sitting in an abandoned classroom. As it was their last Saturday together, he wanted to spend the day with Draco. His request was met with indignant replies from Pansy. Apparently friends came first, though Draco seemed unconvinced. They compromised by deciding to merge trios for the day. After pushing all the desks to the edges of the classroom, Hermione pulled out a tiny blanket and spelled it back to normal size. Pansy threw down some pillows she brought from her dorm, causing everyone but Ron to giggle at the memory of their last experience.

Sitting in Draco’s lap, with the boy’s arms around his waist, Harry was content. He was quite proud of the progress he’d made in turning Draco into a cuddler, but despite the Slytherin’s protests, he figured the boy was quite a willing participant. Ron and Hermione sat next to each other, just barely touching at the knees. The fact that they still weren’t together made Harry want to hex them both. Blaise and Pansy were cuddling together, with the latter sitting nearest Hermione. Harry didn’t quite understand their relationship, but when asked, Draco simply shrugged. He wondered how things were going with Seamus. Perhaps he’d ask Blaise later.

Hermione and Draco quickly fell into a discussion about the Arithmancy homework, so Harry turned his attention to Ron. They talked about Quidditch, with Draco intermittently throwing in comments, much to Hermione’s chagrin. She hated it when people followed multiple conversations at once. Harry resituated himself far more than necessary, grinning as Draco made noises in the back of his throat at the friction. Hermione cast them suspicious looks, but Harry put on his best expression of innocence. Draco got his revenge by slipping his hands lower and applying pressure, causing Harry to go rigid and bite down on his lip. He could feel the Slytherin’s smirk.

Blaise was quiet, and Pansy seemed to be consoling him about something. Harry wanted to ask what his deal was, but wasn’t sure they were on that level of friendliness yet. When something Pansy said made the black boy groan and bury his head in Pansy’s lap, Ron broached the subject.

“What’s his problem?”

Blaise opened a single eyelid. “Finnegan.”

Ron looked confused. “You’re on a last name basis?”

“At the moment,” he replied bitterly.

Ron glanced at Harry and Draco. “And you two?”

“Only when we’re feeling kinky,” Draco said. Harry elbowed him. It was then that Ron realized where Draco’s hands were. He blushed and looked away quickly. Hermione laughed, and Pansy snorted. Harry was blushing too, but Draco seemed unfazed and didn’t change his position.

“So what happened?” Harry asked, more as a distraction than because of genuine interest.

Blaise buried his head further, while Pansy pat his shoulder comfortingly. “Finnegan broke up with him,” she said.

“How come? I thought everything was going well.”

Blaise shifted into a sitting position again, eyes full of despair. “It was. But apparently his mum doesn’t want him dating a Slytherin--she says we’re all Death Eater scum and she doesn’t want me corrupting him.”

Harry’s hands curled unconsciously into fists. “That’s ridiculous. Surely Seamus told her off?”

“If only. Instead, he thought about what she said and compiled a list of ‘evidence’ that I’m on the side of the Dark Lord.”

Draco sighed. “And Blaise here proceeded to angrily explain an ‘if-I-was-a-Death-Eater’ scenario that involved Finnegan’s mum being AK-ed as a blood traitor.”

Blaise groaned again, flopping back into Pansy’s lap. “Kill me now.”

“As a blood traitor?” Pansy offered helpfully.

Hermione pursed her lips. “That really wasn’t the best course of action.”

“You think?” Ron said, glaring at Blaise.

“However,” she continued, “Seamus was also in the wrong. He can’t just stereotype all Slytherins that way.” Draco snorted, probably remembering how just last year, she felt the same.

“You did take it a bit far, though,” Harry commented. Pansy gave him a death glare. He was used to Draco’s, which had far more death in it, so he didn’t even flinch.

“What are you going to do now?” Hermione asked.

Blaise shrugged, a gesture uncharacteristic of the confident Slytherin.

Pansy grinned at him. “I’m single.”

“Don’t you dare,” Draco warned. The Gryffindors looked at each other in confusion. Blaise, however, perked up significantly. Before Harry could ask what Draco meant, the two Slytherins locked lips. Draco sighed dramatically. “See, this is the kind of stuff I have to put up with.”

Ron looked horrified, but slightly intrigued. Hermione just rolled her eyes, as if this was to be expected. Harry turned to look at Draco, who only raised his brows.

“Want to follow their lead?”

Harry glanced at his fellow Gryffindors and shook his head. “Later. In private.”

Draco seemed to understand, but stole a kiss before Harry could turn around again.

Ron was still staring at the two occupied Slytherins. “Should we give them some privacy?”

“No, they feed on watching eyes. You’re probably giving them orgasms right now,” Draco said, voice dead serious.

Ron went as red as his hair. “I did not need to know that.”

Everyone who wasn’t snogging snickered at that. Harry wondered if the Slytherins were rubbing off on them, as he’d never heard such a sound come out of their mouths. He was especially terrified of Hermione. She was scary enough as it was. Slytherin tendencies would make her lethal.

Ron began chucking pillows at the couple intermittently, until eventually the pile blocked them from view. The noises disappeared for a while, and they all braced themselves for a sneak attack. After a moment, Draco laughed.

“Silencing spell. I think they took it up a notch.”

Conversation went back to normal after that, though everyone’s attention was partially on the missing two. The hours passed quickly, with a dishevelled Blaise and Pansy rejoining the group once they finished...whatever they were doing. They discussed classes, Quidditch, their classmates. Harry was happily surprised at the extent of their commonalities. Apparently snakes and lions could get along.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

The stars were beautiful from the Astronomy Tower. It was Draco’s favorite part of the castle, and it was even more spectacular with Harry at his side. They had finally escaped from their friends around dinner in favor of a picnic, and now lied on their backs, bodies touching from shoulder to toe, hands threaded together in the middle.

The silence was comfortable, and Draco didn’t want to speak for fear of breaking the spell. He knew they had a lot to say, but he wouldn’t be the first to say it. Even if he felt all sorts of sappy, romantic things for Harry, he wouldn’t voice them--at least not until Harry made a fool of himself first. Finally, the dark-haired boy spoke up.

“Is it crazy that I can’t bear the thought of existing without you?” _Probably, but if so, I’m just as crazy_ , Draco thought to himself. “I know we’ve been apart for months before, but you leaving this time is different. There’s no set end date. No promise of your return. The thought of you disappearing is nearly unbearable.”

Draco forced the tightness out of his throat. “Funny, there was a time when you probably _wished_ I’d disappear.”

Harry laughed. “No, I don’t think there was. Maybe for a moment, but it was nice having you around to torment me, as ridiculous as it sounds. With all the other things going on in my life, your antics were a nice distraction.”

“My _antics_? Potter, you make it sound as if my insults were childish and petty. I assure you they were of the most tasteful and aristocratic variety. I worked very hard on my schemes.”

He could feel Harry roll his eyes. “ _Sure_...Anyways, you should be happy your absence is so sorely missed.”

Draco sighed, a heaviness settling on him. “I’d be happier if I didn’t have to be absent.”

“Me too.” Harry let out an abrupt laugh. “This is insane, you know that? I mean, we spent years at each other’s throats, and all it took was a miscast spell for us to--”

“Stick our tongues down each other’s throats instead?” the blond suggested. Harry giggled. Draco wondered if there was something wrong with him that he thought the sound was sexy. “Also, the spell was _not_ miscast,” he added indignantly.

Harry turned so he was on his side facing Draco. “You intended for us to switch bodies?”

Draco felt his face heat as he realized the situation he walked into. “No.”

“Then how was it not miscast?”

“I, er...misunderstood the intended effects.” He did not like the direction this was going one bit. He had even stumbled over his words! Malfoys _never_ stumbled over their words.

Harry either didn’t pick up on Draco’s reluctance or was too curious to care. _Bloody Gryffindors_. “What does that mean?”

Draco sighed, realizing there was no option but to tell the truth. What could it hurt now? _My pride_ , he snarked back. “I was planning to run away so I wouldn’t have to take the Dark Mark. The spell was meant to put me in the place of my heart’s desire. I thought that meant a location--that it would take me somewhere they wouldn’t find me, since I thought that’s what I desired. It turned out the spell didn’t take me to a place, but _put me in the place of_. In other words, it switched us, putting me in your place.”

Harry was silent for a moment. Draco didn’t meet his gaze, but was sure his mouth was agape. “You...your heart _desired_ me before the switch?”

Draco’s jaw clenched, his face burning. “That would appear to be the case.”

Harry, in a rather flawed impression of Draco, replied, “I knew I was gorgeous, but...” His voice was obnoxiously high, and he stiffened in what was probably supposed to look posh.

“I do _not_ sound like that,” Draco insisted.

Harry grinned. “Maybe not. But I bet you could.” And then he did the unfathomable. He _tickled_ Draco Malfoy. The blond let loose an undignified squeal.

“Potter! Potter, _stop that this insta_ \--ha! Potter! HARRY!”

The Gryffindor was giggling incessantly when he finally stopped, collapsing indecorously on top of Draco. Green eyes fastened on grey, love and lust twisting together in a way that made Draco hard. Lifting onto his elbows, his lips met Harry’s. He was quickly lowered back to the ground as Harry kissed him fiercely. He brought his hands up around the other boy’s neck, pulling him closer. Harry’s hands were planted on either side of Draco’s head, freeing the rest of his body for exploration--an opportunity Draco fully utilized, tracing his hands up and down the toned torso. Quidditch training sculpted Harry beautifully, and Draco relished in the way those muscles contracted under his touch.

A moan escaped him when Harry’s lips broke free of his to plant hot, wet kisses on his neck and collarbone. The Gryffindor had an odd affinity for his clavicle that greatly amused him. Draco caught those lips in another kiss, wanting--no, _needing_ \--to be closer. To have no more space between them. Buttons came loose; trousers were tugged off.

It was amazing. It was brilliant. It was perfectly imperfect.

They ended up lying on Draco’s cloak, hugging each other tightly, clad in only their pants. Harry looked beautiful in the starlight. His eyes shined brighter, the green refracting a hundred times over until Draco was sure they had to be made of emerald. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. Harry grinned crookedly.

“What is it?” the Slytherin asked.

Harry smothered a laugh with his hand. “I feel like a regular teenager.”

Draco scoffed. “Potter, there is nothing regular about any experience involving me.”

The Gryffindor’s grin didn’t falter. “I like this. I’ve spent so much of my life feeling like a freak. So much time dealing with Voldemort. It’s freeing to just live my life the way I want to--consequences be damned. It’s like a right of passage to snog in the Astronomy Tower, isn’t it?”

“Technically, I think the tradition is to shag in the Astronomy Tower.”

Harry blushed but wiggled his brows suggestively. “Next time, then.”

Draco snickered but sobered when he realized the implication. “After Voldemort’s gone, you mean.”

Harry tilted his head to the side as if puzzling something out. “You used his name.”

“Catch up, Potter,” Draco replied, but secretly felt pleased at the pride in Harry’s voice.

“Yes, I suppose that is what I mean.”

“If things don’t go well--” He swallowed. His eyes were dry, but he felt like crying all the same.

“They will,” Harry insisted, eyes ablaze with that Gryffindor determination. “We have a plan. I’ll kill Voldemort, and then we’ll finish our seventh year together.”

Draco didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. The promises were false, and they both knew it, but he wouldn’t be the one to point it out. He let his head rest on Harry’s shoulder, eyes closing. He focused on the feel of the hand running up and down his back comfortingly, blocking out everything but that touch.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but when he woke, he was tucked into his bed.


	15. The Half Blood Prince

Draco had been standing in front of the Cabinet for far too long. The others were waiting--the Golden Trio and company dispersed throughout the school, with the Order on the perimeter, waiting for the Dark Mark to hit the skies. The light members were told that an attack had been planned, but not who the target was. Draco’s part in everything was left unmentioned. He was glad he wouldn’t see their faces when they heard he was responsible for Dumbledore’s death.

Turning his attention back to the Cabinet, he released a shaky breath. Who would come out of it? His aunt? His father? Parents of his fellow Slytherins? With one more deep breath, he opened it.

Auntie Bella stepped out first, cackling as she emerged. “Draco, it’s been a while.”

“Hello, Auntie. A pleasure, as always,” he said, putting on his Malfoy charm and bowing his head. The less nervous he looked, the better. He had to have them believe he would not waver in his alliance.

Behind her came a herd of familiar faces. Fenrir was followed by the Carrows, who stepped aside for the appearance of Yaxley, Rowle, and Gibbon. Fenrir eyed Draco dangerously, and Draco got the warning loud and clear. The werewolf was infamous for infecting children of Death Eater fuck-ups, and Lucius was high on the list. If this didn’t go as planned, Draco would be next.

“Follow me,” he said, leading them to the Astronomy Tower, where Dumbledore planned to be. Severus was meant to have ‘led’ him there earlier.

Bringing the horde of Death Eaters through Hogwarts made him nauseous. The Headmaster had requested it, but it still felt like a betrayal. These were the halls his friends walked down to get to their classes. There were _first years_ here, and though he knew they were all in bed, it felt like he was endangering them. Setting loose the predator in his den. But war doesn’t spare children--Draco knew that lesson far too well.

Every once in awhile, he spotted a flash of red hair, or heard the quiet breathing of Dumbledore’s Army. He only noticed because he was looking for the signs. The other Death Eaters would be oblivious. For once, Draco was glad the Gryffindors weren’t completely inept. And, despite feeling very Hufflepuff, he took comfort in knowing he wasn’t alone. He only wished he had spotted a mess of black hair, though it was better he didn’t. Harry was meant to be stationed below the Tower in his Invisibility Cloak, so as to lead the attack once the deed was done.

When he reached the steps to the Astronomy Tower, he felt he arrived far too quickly. Perhaps Hogwarts wanted this over with as much as he did and moved the staircases to match his intended path. At the moment, he couldn’t remember walking down the stairs at all, though he knew he must have to be at the Tower’s base now.

He wondered if Harry could see him--if he was standing only an arm’s length away. Draco’s heart beat loudly in his chest, and his hands trembled as he opened the door. Auntie Bella let loose a laugh that resonated in the spiraling tower. It didn’t seem to fade as they moved up the stairs, ringing in Draco’s ears like a muggle horror movie soundtrack (he had watched one with Pansy over the summer, thinking all films were comedies like the one he and Harry saw. He was wrong).

When they filed into the Astronomy Tower, Draco walked to the front of the group as calmly as he could. Dumbledore and Severus turned, eyeing them cautiously and smirking respectively. A whispered incantation sent the Dark Mark into the sky. Soon, the Aurors would be upon them. He’d have to be quick.

“Draco, what is this?” the Headmaster questioned, as per their plan. Draco drew his wand and disarmed the man immediately, catching the wand in his hand and throwing it to his aunt without looking. Her snickering was the only sign she caught it.

“I’m here to kill you,” Draco said as evenly as he could.

The pitying look in Dumbledore’s eyes made him want to turn around and leave, or perhaps launch himself out of the tower. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Sorry, but I think I do,” Draco sneered, hoping the man understood the true apology behind his words. “The Dark Lord has asked for your head, and it shall be given.”

Dumbledore held up his hands in a calming gesture. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Draco. I can help you. You aren’t alone.”

Draco tried to imagine how he would feel if this situation was real. He couldn’t help but think that without Harry, he _would_ have been alone. He wouldn’t have asked for help. He would have been standing here, shaking even more than he was now, and it would be too late to turn back. It was strange how much one person’s understanding could alter his choices. Just by experiencing even a small part of what Draco suffered, Harry kept him from being alone. From feeling weak and helpless. Draco didn’t know how he could ever thank the Gryffindor enough for that.

“I have to do this,” Draco said, convincing himself as the words left his mouth. And then he pointed his wand, meeting those blue eyes directly. “Avada Kedavra.”

He watched the man fall, saw the life leave his form. Something wrenched inside him, and he wondered how people like his father could do this and feel pleasure. There was no satisfaction in watching someone die, however, there was fear that one day he might find that satisfaction. There was no rush of adrenaline. Only a sinking feeling that what he’d done was irreversible. Permanent. And despite Dumbledore’s reassurances, Draco felt sick. The words tingled on his lips, feeling dirty and far too simple. How was it that such an easy incantation could take away someone’s life? That the short utterance could end a man who lived for a century?

The answer was, it didn’t matter. Because it could. And it had. And now, Draco would leave his childhood behind in order to join the people who relished in saying those words. He was wanted by the Ministry. It would be all over the school by morning that everyone was right about Draco Malfoy. He was a Death Eater. A murderer. His father’s son. The thought made him nauseous.

He understood now why Harry always felt sickened by the Prophet. Having lies told about you was far worse than releasing your secrets. At least secrets were real. At least they made you sound human. The fictional Draco Malfoy dreamed up by Rita Skeeter and all the bloody Gryffindors was two-dimensional. He was a Death Eater. They’d see the Mark before the man. Even once the war ended, there would be people who mistrusted him. Who wouldn’t let him near their kids. Who would whisper when they thought his back was turned.

And frankly, as he followed Fenrir to wreak havoc on the school, he felt like he deserved it. Because he was helpless--and really, what was heroic about that?

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Harry was shaking uncontrollably. It was all too much. He couldn’t just stand there waiting. Draco’s eyes were full of terror when he passed him on the way up the Astronomy Tower. Harry desperately wanted to reach out and touch him--to ease his pain in some way--but he couldn’t risk discovery.

And then he’d watched Dumbledore fall. Heard those two fatal words fall from Draco’s mouth. And then silence. He shrunk his Cloak and tucked it into his robes before drawing his wand. Sparks flew from the tip as he faced the wooden door, feeling pressure build. When the door opened, he let fly the first curse he thought of.

“Sectumsempra!” It hit an unfamiliar man, appearing to slice him open across the chest. He fell to the floor, letting out a guttural scream in pain. Snape’s black robes whirled as he came out, casting a healing spell on the fallen Death Eater before turning to face Harry. His dark eyes blazed with something like fury. Bellatrix looked like she wanted to get in on the fight, but Snape shooed her with a wave of his hand.

“Where did you learn that spell?” he demanded, forearm pinning Harry to the wall.

“A book,” Harry said quickly.

Snape snarled. “It can’t be found in a book. It’s of my personal creation.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You’re the Half Blood Prince?”

A look of realization dawned on Snape’s features before he glared again. “Do you know how disastrous that could have been?”

“I didn’t know what it did.”

“Precisely. Insolent fool. Messing with spells is a dangerous business.”

Harry sighed in frustration. “I was aiming for the Death Eaters. Aren’t I allowed to hurt them?”

Snape sneered. “As if you were looking at who you aimed for. You could have easily hit Draco.” Harry winced. “Not to mention the fact that if I wasn’t here, that spell would have killed Carrow. And despite your excuse that he’s a _Death Eater_ , I should think a Gryffindor like yourself would show more respect for someone’s life, especially after the task Draco just completed. Taking a life nearly tore him apart, and you think you can just do it willy-nilly as part of your hero status? In case you’ve forgotten, both Draco and myself are Death Eaters.”

Harry felt guilt twist his stomach into knots. “I didn’t know.”

“The world isn’t as black and white as you make it out to be.” Snape released him, his features still sour. “Be careful with that book.”

Harry swallowed. “Is Draco--”

“I’ll watch after him.” The man’s features softened slightly, and he seemed to be staring deeply into Harry’s eyes. “Take care of yourself, Potter.”

He only nodded, shocked at the care in the man’s eyes. And then he was gone.

Harry watched him disappear down the halls, spotting a shock of blond hair duck around the corner just before him. He felt empty. Dumbledore was dead. Draco was gone. And Harry felt alone, despite knowing his friends were patrolling the halls.

It hit him, for the first time in months, that they were in a state of war. It was easy to forget when he could laugh with Ron and Hermione, and spend his evenings bantering with Draco. But it was impossible to deny it now.

The lives they’d already lost filled his head, and he couldn’t move. Cedric. Sirius. Hedwig. Moody. And then there were the people he didn’t know. All the muggleborns and so-called blood traitors. Wiped out with the same two words Draco uttered only moments ago.

He thought of the childhoods that were lost. The sight of Cedric’s body at the Tri-Wizard Tournament, scarring hundreds of children. The fact that they were forced to organize an army out of students when they were only fifteen, or even younger. The fear that settled over the Great Hall, quieting chatter. The Slytherins stuck on the wrong side of the war because of their parentage. So many kids forced to grow up far too fast.

He wondered if that was how his parents grew up. Living on the brink of war. How had they managed to marry and start a family with the fear and desolation all around them? Perhaps it was as he told Draco. This was normal. They moved on with their lives so they’d have something to cling to when the war did end. Except they didn’t make it out.

Harry found it was far harder to hold onto hope when he was alone. Convincing Draco was easier. As the shouts from outside hit his ears, and the sight of Dumbledore falling flashed across his shut eyelids, he wondered just what would be left when it was all said and done.

 

When the Death Eaters were taken care of, there were no casualties on their side. Neville and Bill were injured, along with Professor Flitwick, but Luna, Remus, and Tonks stayed in the Hospital Wing with them until they healed, with others stopping by intermittently.

Harry felt lost since that night, even more so now, as he sat in one of the many chairs at Dumbledore’s funeral. He couldn’t help but feel guilty. He had known this would happen, and he’d agreed to it. Instead of putting up a fight, or suggesting another option, he helped plan this catastrophe. A small part of him that sounded suspiciously like Hermione reasoned that this assessment wasn’t fair, but the logic wasn’t convincing in his state.

It didn’t help that Draco was gone. Snape had come back for the funeral, still keeping his status as a double agent. Harry wondered if he or McGonagall would take over Dumbledore’s position. He hoped it would be Snape--a desire that shocked him--because he knew the truth of what happened, and would be more likely to let Draco back into school once everything was over. Plus, it meant Harry wouldn’t have to be in his class anymore, which he considered a bonus.

It was strange how reliant on Draco he’d become. His heart felt stretched, like it was trying to reach the Slytherin while still beating in his chest. There had been no letters since that night, and Harry was contemplating talking to Snape just for some information on his well-being. Was Voldemort pleased with his actions? Did he raise Draco’s rank, like they hoped? Or did he figure out he was disloyal and torture him? The thought was too plausible for Harry’s liking. The heavy feel of the funeral didn’t relieve his nausea.

Perhaps even more troubling than what Voldemort would do to Draco was the psychological effect murder would have. Harry felt guilty and empty simply by watching and hearing it happen, so how was Draco faring, knowing he was the one to say the spell? To point his wand and see the light leave those blue eyes? Harry knew how scared Draco was, and how little sleep he’d been getting. With everything added together, the blond could very well be a right mess.

Ron and Hermione were doing their best to comfort him, but they themselves looked in need of comfort. Harry didn’t bother to return the favor. He couldn’t see the point in voicing false positives simply to make others feel better, and frankly, he didn’t have the energy. His thoughts were consumed by guilt and worry and longing. How had they thought this was a good idea? How had he imagined he could exist without knowing Draco was safe? Why on earth did the one person who understood exactly how he felt get taken away when he needed him most?

None of the questions had answers, and they only ended up making his temples ache--a welcome change from the usual scar pain, but not altogether pleasant. He tried to focus on the tiny wizard presiding over the ceremony, but his mind kept wandering. Even when his thoughts were relevant, they only brought up memories of Dumbledore falling from the Tower, and that made him squeeze his eyes shut.

The funeral was at Hogwarts, and all the students but Draco and a few Slytherins were present. Luna traced invisible patterns on Neville’s palm to console him. Hermione rested her head on Ron’s shoulder without a hint of a blush. Pansy and Blaise sat stiffly in respectful silence, only their glassy eyes giving away emotion. Harry wondered when he started being able to see through the Slytherin facade. Perhaps he’d never cared enough before. There were a lot of things about the Slytherins he’d never cared to notice, and watching Draco’s closest friends mourn the Headmaster they claimed to despise, he wished he would have noticed sooner.

In a way, the wizarding world was just as guilty as Voldemort when it came to prejudice and bigotry. The Slytherins were hated by most of the school, including the staff. No wonder they turned to Voldemort. He was the only one to pride them for their clever wits. The only one to see green and silver and grin. He played off their isolation and pureblood traditions in a way that made it clear the problems went beyond him. Harry wondered if Dumbledore realized this. Probably. Either way, he never did anything about it and he was gone now.

As the funeral goers raised their lit wands in respect, Harry thought back to his memories of Dumbledore, both good and bad. Good: he cared for Harry, and gave him insightful advice. Bad: despite his care, he left Harry with the Dursleys, enabling abuse. Good: he trusted Draco when most others wouldn’t. Bad: he didn’t trust him soon enough, favoring the Gryffindors like the rest of the staff until Draco was desperate and alone, like so many Slytherins before him.

In the end, Harry decided it didn’t matter. Good deeds and bad deeds weren’t weighable. Dumbledore lived, and then he died. The world contained far more grey than Harry had ever realized, and it was Draco’s eyes that finally made it clear. Dumbledore changed many lives for the better, and ignored issues that changed others for the worse. He lived. He made a difference. He died. That was all.

And despite the simplicity of it--despite the apparent meaningless of life--Harry felt the man’s absence in the silence. He felt it in the way the air was less satisfying to breathe. The way all these people gathered, abandoning House colors for the black dress robes of mourning. Dumbledore made a difference in all of their lives, and although his innate worth as a person could never really be judged by anyone, Harry decided that made him good. Perhaps all good and evil really came down to was perception. The way it felt to experience someone’s life, and the way it felt to no longer experience it. Or perhaps neither ever existed to begin with.

Voldemort, who appeared to be the epitome of evil, was only a victim of flawed system after flawed system. The orphanage taught him he was a freak for having magic. The school taught him he was a freak for being a Slytherin. The Slytherin House taught him he was a freak for not being pureblood. It was only natural for him to desire power over those who hurt him. To want to hurt them in return. To want to belong, even if that meant inspiring fear in those he held closest.

Harry wondered if maybe he was losing his mind. Because despite understanding where Voldemort came from, there was no way he was anything but evil, right?

He killed people. _So did Draco._

He was prejudiced. _So was everyone._

He couldn’t love.

That’s what it came down to really, wasn’t it? Every other flaw was excusable, but that was the one thing that truly made him the freak they all wanted him to be.

If love was the judge of one’s person, then Dumbledore was indeed good. He loved Grindelwald. He loved Harry, and the Hogwarts staff, and their students. Despite his mistakes, he put love into everything he did. He protected those in need. He stood strong when others felt weak.

When Harry looked down at Dumbledore’s lifeless body, he smiled sadly. Because whether there was good or bad, and whether Dumbledore fit the former or latter category, Harry loved him.

So maybe love didn’t define good and evil. Maybe it just made the part between birth and death worth living through. Dumbledore lived. He loved. He died. That was all.

But it was enough.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Draco was trying to read when Severus flooed into the Malfoy sitting room. His mourning attire wasn’t far off from his regular clothing, but the fit was slightly more form-fitting and the material nicer. He looked as expressionless as ever, but the downward tug of his lips gave away his true mood.

“Sev, are you alright?”

The man nodded, black eyes locking on grey inquisitively. “And you?”

Draco didn’t answer. When Severus flicked his wand at the door, locking it and putting up silencing charms, the boy swallowed. He wasn’t sure he was ready to speak, but his godfather wouldn’t leave until he heard what he wanted to. The man didn’t usually pry, but there was a point when he tired of short answers, and then, there was no dissuading him.

“Talk.”

Draco fingered the pages of the book in his hands. He hadn’t read a word of it in the hours Severus was at the funeral. His thoughts were on Dumbledore, and the fact that even if he could, he wouldn’t attend the funeral. It was his fault the man was dead.

“Draco...” Severus said warningly, seating himself in a leather chair.

“How’s Harry?” Draco asked instead.

Snape sighed, but spoke anyways. “As well as is to be expected under the circumstances.” Draco nodded, still not making eye contact. “What exactly is your relationship with the boy?”

The question caught him off-guard. He had forgotten how little he and Sev had talked in the past few months. Of all the things he could have been asked, however, that was a fairly easy one. “I love him.”

Severus nodded. “I suspected as much. And he you?”

“Yes,” Draco said, smiling for the first time in a week.

“I’m glad.”

Draco looked up in surprise. “I thought you hated him.”

The man’s lips twisted up in amusement. “One might’ve said the same about you.”

The blond raised a brow. “So you’re snogging him too, then?”

Severus wrinkled his nose. “What a ridiculous notion.” Draco laughed. Snape sobered again, appearing deep in thought. “I never...hated him exactly. I hated his father, and thus noticed those traits more prominently than I would have liked, but I didn’t hate him. I could never hate anyone with her eyes.” Draco knew he was talking about Harry’s mother--he’d heard the story before. Severus met his gaze suddenly, memories no longer swimming in his dark eyes. “Are you serious about this...relationship?”

Draco didn’t even have to think. “Yes. More than I’ve ever been about anything.” The thought made him feel odd. How was it he felt more certain about his love for his once-rival than his loyalty to his own family? When had his priorities changed so much? “After the war’s over, I can even imagine spending the rest of my life with him. As crazy as it sounds.”

Severus smiled, the close-lipped expression warmer than any Draco had seen before. “It is rather crazy, isn’t it?”

Draco laughed. “It is. _I_ am. Luckily, Harry’s crazy too, or this relationship would never have happened.”

They continued to chat until late into the night, and Draco found part of himself again. The part that hid when the Death Eaters showed up at the Manor over the summer. The part that still loved to fly under the stars, and stay up late drinking firewhiskey with Pansy and Blaise. Draco realized that maybe the war didn’t have to take that from him. It was there, hiding away until it was safe to emerge once more. It was there, and he’d hold onto it with everything he had. Because Harry was right. When the war was over, he needed something to live for.

And what better cause than himself?

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Harry knocked on the door to Dumbledore--no _, Snape’s_ office. It still made his heart clench every time he slipped up. He was pleased to note, however, that Snape kept the tradition of sweets as passwords. Lemon drops was the current one. It was Harry’s first guess. He wondered if it had the same meaning to Snape as it did Harry.

“Enter.”

Harry shut the door behind him and held his breath. Part of him wanted to close his eyes, not daring to witness whatever changes Snape had made. Deciding that would be childish and not wishing to be mocked, he left them open. And was stunned to see it looked exactly the same.

“Do shut your mouth, Potter, before you swallow a wrackspurt or something equally horrid. Merlin knows the damage it could cause.”

Harry cracked a small smile. “Luna often goes on about wrackspurts. I didn’t know they were real.”

Snape almost appeared to be amused. Surely he was just holding back a cough or something. “They aren’t. Miss Lovegood is a stellar pupil, however, so I humor her, and in turn, she leaves her superstitions outside my class. Refusing to brew on Tuesdays because of lunar influences is rather inhibitive.”

“Mondays, sir,” Harry corrected. Upon seeing Snape’s raised brow, he added, “Unpredictable energies.”

The Headmaster’s lips twitched once again, and Harry was sure he was hallucinating. “Indeed. What brings you into my office, Mr. Potter?”

Harry held out the book in his hands awkwardly. The cover felt comfortable and natural in his hands after all these months, and he was used to keeping it close at all times. It was strange to hand it over so willingly. “It’s your Potions textbook. I thought the annotations were best left in the right hands. It wouldn’t do to have anyone else find it.”

Snape took it, looking unimpressed. “Is that all?”

Harry shifted slightly on his feet, unsure whether the man would continue to be genial. They weren’t exactly on good terms, but he couldn’t stand not knowing. “Is Draco okay?”

Snape’s features softened slightly. Harry wondered if  Draco was right and the Potions professor was a good person somewhere on the inside. “He is...alright. It’s hard being stuck in a role for such an extended period of time.” His dark eyes looked distant, and Harry knew he was speaking from experience.

“But he’s not being tortured or killed? Voldemort trusts him?”

Snape nodded thoughtfully. “I believe he has earned the Dark Lord’s respect. Physically, he’s fine, but as of late, he’s been rather withdrawn. I’m not sure there’s anything to be done about it at the moment, however.”

Harry worried at his lip--a habit he picked up from Draco. “Tell him I love him, will you?” He felt strange asking such a personal thing of Snape, but it was the only way he knew the words would get there. Draco was alone, and apparently ‘withdrawn’. He’d need all the support he could get, and it hurt Harry that he couldn’t do more. What was the point of being the savior if he couldn’t ease the pain of the person he loved most in the world?

Snape did smile then, and though it was small, it meant a lot to finally see it. “I will.”

“Sir, I know we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, and then we continued on that defective foot for far too long, but you’re important to Draco, and I’d like to start over.” He shifted uncomfortably, waiting to be turned down with a sneer and a snide remark about his parentage.

“Alright, Potter,” he ground out, sounding like the idea displeased him very much. Harry grinned, feeling oddly ecstatic at the small concession. “Don’t expect me to suddenly be nice to you, or any other ridiculous notion. But I will...make an effort. As long as you do the same.”

“I will,” Harry promised, feeling quite passionate about his new mission.

Snape stared for a long while before finally speaking again. “Potter, Dumbledore asked me to tell you something when the time was right. I feel that now is optimal. If it was up to me, you would have learned far sooner.”

Harry felt dread building in his stomach. “What is it, sir?”

“You know of the Dark Lord’s horcruxes,” he started.

“Yes, what of them?”

“Do you know how many he created?”

“Six. You were there when Dumbledore told us.”

Snape shook his head slowly. “There was a seventh.”

Harry’s brows furrowed. “How...? Why couldn’t you tell me sooner? Is it somewhere we can’t get to? Does Voldemort have it in his possession? Is it--”

“Potter, do stop that incessant prattling.”

“Sorry, sir,” he said, though his voice held no remorse. He was leaning forwards in his seat, nails pressed into the leather. There would surely be marks left behind.

“You are aware that living things can be made into horcruxes, yes?”

“Sir, you’re stalling.”

He huffed. “I am doing no such thing.”

“Tell me.”

He looked far away. “When the Dark Lord killed your mother, he accidentally created a final horcrux.”

Harry paled, realizing where this was going. “I’m the final horcrux, aren’t I?”

Snape didn’t answer, but the look on his face said it all.

“What does that mean?”

The Headmaster didn’t meet his eyes. “It means you will have to die for the Dark Lord to be defeated.”

Harry swallowed, feeling tears prickle in the backs of his eyes. “And you knew? You knew all this time and you never told me? That I’m--what, a part of Voldemort’s soul? That’s why I can see into his mind, isn’t it. It’s why I can talk to snakes. Why my entire fucking life is connected to his. Of course I have to die for him to. I could never have a happy ending. The Boy Who Lived. It was never meant to be, was it? I’ve been living on borrowed time, and only my death can seal his.”

Snape was silent, a pained expression on his face. Harry wondered how he could pretend to care. _Why_ he would. He hated Harry--everyone knew that, even the first years who’d never witnessed a standoff in class knew of the enmity between Professor Snape and the Chosen One.

Suddenly, it hit him just what he’d be losing. His future. His friends. He’d never be an Auror, or have a family. He’d never graduate from Hogwarts. He wouldn’t get to see the world, like he’d always wanted. He wouldn’t get to spend the rest of his life with Draco. Even the small bit of time he had left would be spent fighting a war he’d never see the end of. Harry sunk into a chair, feeling dizzy.

“Does Draco know?”

Snape pursed his lips. “I thought it best to keep him in the dark. If you wish, however, to tell him--”

“No. He shouldn’t know. It won’t change anything, and he won’t make it through this if he loses hope.” Harry sought out those dark eyes, desperate to have his final wish heard. “Keep him safe, will you? And not just from physical dangers. Make sure he moves on after the war. That he finds someone who can make him happy. That he becomes a Potions Master or a Medi-Wizard like he’s always wanted. That he’s loved.”

Snape nodded, swallowing. “I will do my best.” He looked at Harry a while longer. “You have your mother’s eyes.”

Harry blinked. “You knew my mother?”

Snape smiled that oddly pleasant smile again. “I did. She was my best friend for a while.”

“What happened?”

“We had a fight. She married the man who made my life miserable. I joined the Death Eaters. We weren’t on speaking terms when I found her body that night. That was my biggest regret.”

Harry was stunned, by both the man’s words, and the look in his eyes. “You loved her.”

He nodded. “Lily was the only one who ever saw past the surface.” His eyes were warm, like coffee. “You’re that person for Draco. I cannot thank you enough for that.”

“He’s that person for me, too.” Maybe that was all love was--being able to truly see a person and love them for what you find. Their darkness and their light. Balance.

Snape gave him one more warm look before shuttering it. “If that is all, Mr. Potter, you should be getting back to class now. Surely your pathetic Gryffindor friends will be waiting for you. Granger and Weasley are subject to collapse if you are absent for more than fifteen minutes. You wouldn’t want to spend any more time in the Hospital Wing, would you?”

Harry grinned. “Right, Professor. See you around.”

A flame burst in the corner, drawing Harry’s eyes. Fawkes. The small squawk made him smile. Perhaps even in this time of darkness, there could be beginnings. Even if, for Harry, it was the beginning of the end.

 

He met up with Ron and Hermione just as they were leaving the Great Hall.

“Mate, what took you so long? We were worried Snape kidnapped you and made you do Potions homework or something.” Harry wondered if perhaps the Headmaster’s theory about his friends wasn’t too far off. He cracked a smile, appreciating the care his friends gave him more than ever.

“God, no. If that was the case, I’d have kept the book.”

Hermione brightened. “So you gave it back, then?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, Hermione.”

“Good, because Potions is an art you really need to learn on your own...”

Harry and Ron shared a look, but neither could resist smiling at their bushy-haired friend. As the trio walked to their first class, Harry wondered how he got so lucky to have such great friends. After eleven years of having no friends at all, he stumbled upon the most loyal people he could imagine. And in that moment, he thought that maybe it would be okay to sacrifice his life if it meant these people he loved and cared about so much could live in a world free from Voldemort. For all they had put up with for him, he owed it to them. Thinking back to all the kind people he’d met in the wizarding world, he realized they were worth it. His borrowed time was almost up, but he’d give it away happily if it saved the ones who made it worthwhile.


	16. Horcrux Hunt

Draco knocked on the door to his father’s study, which had been taken over by Auntie Bella during his stay in Azkaban. Lucius had yet to reclaim it. He entered without waiting for a reply, trusting his elevated status in the eyes of the Dark Lord. Since killing Dumbledore, his aunt viewed him with appreciation rather than mocking scorn--the only positive he could find in all this. 

Severus had visited once more since the funeral. During the visit, Draco’s spirits lifted slightly, as the man passed along Harry’s love. It was strange that his heart still fluttered at the sound of those words, even after knowing them to be true since July. Then again, just about anything could spark his interest at the moment. With so much doom and gloom in his childhood home, each and every kind word or laughter-provoking incident was valued. He’d never considered himself a positive person, but he felt downright cheerful as soon as he separated from the Death Eaters. 

He’d read  _ Parseltongue, A Thorough Study _ cover to cover thrice, and raided the potions section of the library at least a dozen times. His room became a sort of safe haven, and each summoning made him want to burrow deeper in his books. He was sure Harry would make a jab about him acting like Granger, and he found the thought pleased him instead of getting on his nerves. In his current state of boredom, he was almost looking forward to the next step in their plan, despite the danger of discovery. 

“What is it, boy?” Bellatrix asked from her position, draped over Lucius’ desk chair, heels sticking up and fingers stroking an owl as she read a letter. 

“Auntie, I was wondering if perhaps I might borrow your wand to gain entry to your vault.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What for?”

“I’m working on developing transportable wards for my personal studies, and since the Lestrange vault holds many precious pieces of arcane magic, I thought exploring those would be the next step. Most of the earliest wards were attached to material objects, and I believe with some updates, they could be altered to become mobile.”

She studied him for a few moments, looking rather skeptical. He didn’t blame her. The lie was the best he could come up with, but even he could admit it wasn’t his best. “Alright,” she said finally. “But I expect it back within the hour. Give me yours in the meantime, just in case.” She didn’t explain what that meant, but Draco handed his wand over anyways. 

“Thank you, Auntie.”

She gave him one more dark look before returning to the letter in her hands. “Run along now.”

 

Walking into Gringotts, he felt exposed. He knew the Ministry was overrun by Death Eaters and wouldn’t stop him, and that the Goblins wouldn’t blink an eye, but he had blood on his hands, and it seemed like everyone would notice. _ He _ certainly did. He couldn’t stop seeing those blue eyes dull, the wrinkled frame go limp. Everytime he shut his eyes the images flickered through. 

Dumbledore was right though: knowing he was forgiven by the man whose life he took made bearing the guilt that much easier. Still, it didn’t lighten the weight pressing on his shoulders, or the cinching around his brows. He was sure he’d have worry lines from these few months alone, but it didn’t really bother him. He came to terms with the prospect of having wrinkles years ago when his mother pointed out how expressively he used his eyebrows. 

He strutted up to the nearest Goblin and extended the wand in his hand. 

“I request access to the Lestrange vault.”

The Goblin peered at him over half-moon frames that made Draco remember Dumbledore with another flash of guilt. With long fingers, he took hold of the wand and examined it. “Very well. You will be taken back at once.” 

Draco followed the Goblin he produced, the mundanity of the journey making his anxiety flood away. He began to relax, and almost didn’t realize when they arrived. The Goblin stood aside as Draco entered the vault. His eyes scanned the different treasures, passing over the piles of gold without a second glance. He picked up the dustiest items he could find, using Auntie Bella’s wand to look for traces of old magic. After collecting a handful, his eyes sought out the golden chalice he came here for.

When he spotted it, his wrist flicked automatically to test for spells. It seemed someone had cast a Flagrante and a Gemini curse. He whispered the counter-curses under his breath before cautiously taking the cup in his hands. It thrummed with magic, and Draco wasn’t sure if that was because it belonged to a Founder or because it was a horcrux.

He exited the vault, and a nod at the Goblin started their return. If only this was like his last horcrux mission, where he had Pansy at his side and Harry waiting for his return. He knew the other boy would be waiting, but it would be at the other end of the Vanishing Cabinet, and not at the Burrow. Draco wished he could go through the Cabinet to the other side, but knew no one would be able to get him back. A letter would have to suffice. 

Draco’s heart felt heavy in his chest. Words weren’t enough. They could never compare to speaking to Harry in person. Seeing his eyes light up, and his hands gesture wildly as he got carried away. The way his black hair seemed to get messier halfway through his ramblings, as if it was excited as well. 

A letter wouldn’t let him see Harry’s reaction. A letter was distant and inhuman. Like the Manor he was trapped in. But at least he got the horcrux. He was one step closer to reuniting with Harry. He kept that thought in mind as he returned to his prison.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

When Harry opened the Vanishing Cabinet, he was fully expecting it to be empty like the last twenty three times he checked. His breath caught when he felt the hum of a horcrux, and he couldn’t keep from grinning when he saw the letter attached. 

_ Harry, _

_ Merlin, I miss you. This letter was supposed to be business, but I couldn’t resist telling you that. Sev gave me your message a few months back, and although it’s silly and very Hufflepuff of me, it’s what’s keeping me going. Perhaps love makes Hufflepuffs of us all. What a terrifying thought.  _

_ I hope you’re close to finding the diadem. The waiting is killing me. While the details of our plan terrify me, the thought of all of this finally being over is enticing. I thought about what you said--about having something to live for once all this is over--and I realized I do want to fight for that. I want to fight for me. For us. I thought I should let you know. _

_ In regards to our plan, your capture is scheduled for next week, just before the start of May. Nothing has changed on our side. I was wondering if perhaps we could switch like before. You heard what Dumbledore said: Voldemort will try to kill me once he realizes the wand doesn’t work. If that’s the case, I want to see Severus one last time. I’ll see you when we switch back, but I might not get a chance to see him again. Of course, the optimal situation involves me surviving this war, but I want to say goodbye just in case. Would you do that for me? I can perform the spell at midnight before your capture. If I receive no response, I will go through with that plan. _

_ I love you, _

_ Draco _

 

The letter shook in Harry’s hands. In a way, he’d come to terms with the inevitability of his own death. But Draco’s was one he hadn’t let himself consider. Harry decided he’d have to end everything before Voldemort went after Draco. 

If he let himself die when Voldemort attacked him, no one would ever realize the wand’s shafted power. He’d be killed and the horcrux would be destroyed. Draco wouldn’t be targeted, as Voldemort would believe his wand held its ultimate power--how else could he finally kill the Boy Who Lived? After that, the horcruxes would finally be gone. Voldemort would be mortal, and Draco would survive. It was the only solution. 

He would agree to let Draco switch their bodies for his final goodbye, since he couldn’t rightly tell his boyfriend of his suicidal plan. And once they switched back, he would let Voldemort win. The man’s victory would mean his downfall in the end. 

Harry slipped the cup into his robe pocket and crumpled the letter in his hand, feeling strengthened by the fisted crinkle of parchment. It was almost over. He had a week. And he’d use that time to be as prepared as possible when the end finally came. That started with finding Ravenclaw’s diadem.

 

“What are we looking for exactly?” Ron asked as they made their way to Ravenclaw Tower. The last time Harry had been there was when he walked Luna back after Slughorn’s Christmas party the year before. Life had been so much easier then--when the biggest problem he had to face was his certainty that his feelings for Draco were unrequited.

“I’m not sure, really. But Hermione looked into it, and she said Voldemort most likely used the diadem of Ravenclaw. I think it’s sort of like a tiara.”

“You-Know-Who put part of his soul in a tiara?”

“Apparently.”

When they reached the eagle-shaped knocker, Harry stopped, taking a deep breath. Ron looked like he was about to be sick.

“We should have brought Hermione along,” he said. Harry nodded his agreement. She would have come with them, but she needed to cross-reference something for her Charms essay, and suggested she meet up with them later. Now he wished he’d pressed harder. He lifted the bronze knocker and let it fall with a heavy thump. 

“Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” the eagle asked. 

Harry huffed in annoyance. “That’s not even a riddle. It’s just a stupid muggle saying.”

The eagle would have lifted a feathered eyebrow if it could.

“Egg,” Ron suggested with a shrug. “It’s a fifty-fifty chance, right?”

Harry sighed. “Except that it’s probably not that simple, is it?” 

Just then, the door swung open. 

“Blimey!” Neville was wearing a grin that didn’t fade in his surprise. Perhaps someone had used a sticking charm. “What are you two doing here?”

Ron smirked. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Neville blushed but didn’t stop smiling. “Luna asked me to come look at an infestation of nargles in the Ravenclaw common room.”

Harry grinned. “Did she now?”

Neville only grinned back, far more confidently than he would have a few years ago. He’d grown up a lot since the start of D.A. Harry supposed they all had. “Why are you guys here?”

“We’re looking for something of Rowena Ravenclaw’s,” Harry replied. “We thought Luna or the others might be able to help. Would you mind sticking around for a bit? There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“Sure, Harry.” He stepped aside for them to enter. The Ravenclaw common room was big and open, its circular shape and starry murals on the ceiling making it look like the end of a telescope. It was dark outside the bronze curtained windows, casting deep shadows on the blue carpet. Sections of the walls were lined with bookshelves, while others held canvases. A grand piano sat off to the side, with two sixth years scribbling down musical notes and whispering back and forth. Soft notes were played every so often, but the studying students didn’t look up at the noise. Perhaps it was a common occurrence. Harry often forgot Ravenclaw was also the House for creativity and originality. It was so easy to write them off as good students and book nerds. 

They found Luna in a pillow fort on the far edge of the room, doodling in a small journal. She looked up as they approached. 

“Neville, you’re back.”

“Sorry,” he said, blushing.

She smiled dazedly at him. “I don’t mind.” Noticing his companions after a moment, she turned her smile to them. “Harry! Ron! How are you?”

Harry seated himself in the spot she made for them by pushing pillows aside with her bare toes. “I’m alright.”

She looked at him knowingly. “You miss Draco.”

His eyes widened in shock. How did she find out? Did everyone know? One glance at Neville told him that no, everyone did not know. Harry sighed. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I do.”

“Draco  _ Malfoy _ ?” Neville squeaked. Ron elbowed him. Harry smiled gratefully at his friend, who nodded in return. Neville snapped his jaw shut, but still looked perturbed. 

“Luna, have you ever heard of a diadem of Ravenclaw?”

She blinked. “Of course. The Grey Lady speaks about it on occasion.” 

“Do you know where we can find it?”

Her blond head shook sadly. “No, you’ll have to ask her. I must warn you, however, she can be very touchy. Be careful with your words.”

Harry nodded, storing her concerns in his brain. “Thanks, Luna.”

“Of course. And Harry?” She looked deep into his eyes, making him feel distinctly uncomfortable. “Draco will be alright. He’s strong, beneath all his masks.”

“I know.” It struck him as odd that Luna could tell something so profound about a boy who did so much to cover up his humanity. The girl always seemed to catch him by surprise. 

“Bye Harry, Neville, Ron. Good luck with the diadem.”

They exited, ignoring the scrutinizing looks from the Ravenclaws. When they emerged, Neville looked at him, his face still squished up and pale.

“Draco  _ Malfoy _ ?” 

Harry sighed, realizing there wasn’t much to be done about the boy. He’d have to tell at least part of the truth. “He’s on our side, and we’ve been working together to stop Voldemort. We’re friends now.”

Ron snorted. “Is that what you’re calling it these days?”

Harry shoved him. “Oh, shut up.” Noticing Neville’s look of confusion, Harry smiled slightly. “Draco and I are together.”

“Draco  _ Malfoy _ ?” he asked again, apparently incapable of other words.

“Yes, now stop acting like a broken record player.” At the dumbfounded expressions on their faces, Harry added, “Sorry, muggle phrase. Never mind. Anyways, the reason I asked you to stay was because there’s a special job I need you to do. In order to defeat Voldemort, we have to destroy the six pieces of his soul. We need you to take care of three of them.”

Neville’s shock cleared at the mention of a plan. “Alright. What does that entail?”

“I’m going to be captured by Death Eaters to get me near Voldemort, and the Order will come through soon after. At exactly the right time, we need you to destroy the three items with a Basilisk fang so I can kill him. Can you do that?” 

Neville nodded, eyes flicking around as he processed. “I think so.”

“Great. I’ll give you the details once the plan is concrete. Thanks, Neville.”

“Course, Harry. See you back at Gryffindor!” The boy took off down the halls, leaving Harry and Ron alone. 

“Ready to talk to a touchy ghost?” Ron asked, rubbing his hands together. 

“Sounds like fun. Let’s go.”

 

An hour later, Harry decided it was arguably  _ not fun. _ They finally got the information out of Helena, but it was like pulling teeth, a simile that made him think of Hermione’s parents. He wondered if she was waiting for them in the common room. It was nearly curfew, and they would be pushing it to make it back in time, but knowing where the horcrux was, they couldn’t very well ignore it. They made their way to the Room of Requirement with ease, trying to look as ordinary as possible.

“I think I’m going to ask Hermione out,” Ron said after a while. His voice fell flat in the stone corridor. 

“You said that months ago,” Harry replied with an eye roll.  

Ron blushed slightly. “Just because you’re in a simple relationship doesn’t mean it’s easy for the rest of us.”

“Simple my arse. It’s Draco  _ Malfoy _ ,” Harry said, echoing Neville’s words.

“I just meant that he likes you back. How do I know Hermione feels that way for me?”

Harry stared at him. “You’re joking.”

“No. Why would I joke about something like this?”

“Ron, we’ve been over this a thousand times. Hermione definitely likes you. It’s extremely simple.”

The redhead smiled, but still looked unconvinced. After a moment of consideration, he took a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll do it. Once this is all over.”

Harry grinned. “Awesome.”

Ron looked relieved at coming to a decision. He laughed. “You know, it’s ridiculous that you and Malfoy worked out your issues before I could work up the guts to ask out my best friend.”

“Of course it is. Some Gryffindor you are...”

“Hey! At least I’m not dating a snake.”

“Well, Hermione has a lot of potential.”

“When did Slytherin tendencies become equated to potential in your head?”

“Big words there, Ron,” Harry teased.

“Merlin, you even sound like him now.”

Harry grinned unabashedly. When they reached the Room of Requirement, it was easy to find the diadem. They made their way back to the common room in silence, since it was past curfew now. Harry walked with a slight bounce in his step, surprisingly unconcerned about the possibility of Filch catching them. Spending time with Ron always brought out that little piece of childhood in him. He still saw hope and comfort when he looked at his first friend. It was amazing how far they had come. 

His mood dimmed when he remembered the weight of the diadem in his pocket. They had all the horcruxes except Nagini, meaning everything was in place for the plan that would end it all. He’d stick to it until the last possible moment, during which he would surrender himself to Voldemort, trusting his friends to destroy the rest of the horcruxes, and in the end, Voldemort himself. 

Everything was almost over. The war. His time at Hogwarts. The fight against Voldemort. His life. In a way, it made sense that he had to die. His whole life had been dedicated to fighting Voldemort, so what would his purpose be once that was over? Maybe it was for the best, even if it was strange leaving so many loose ends behind.

Then he wondered at the fact that his life truly did revolve around defeating Voldemort. What was left of him once that was removed? Did he even exist without his mission? Without his titles--the savior, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived. He was nothing without what Voldemort made him. Every aspect of his life, from his affinity for Defense Against the Dark Arts to Parseltongue, began with Tom Riddle. Was he just the shadow left behind? Picking up the pieces after disaster struck? And what would he have done once there were no more pieces left? Perhaps it was better just to join the wreckage. 

He was grateful for those who made his peculiar life worth living. Without his friends, there would have been no point at all. Harry’s short and warped existence was bettered by those he loved, and the moments with them were the only things that made him feel normal, at least for a little while. He could just be a kid, a teenager. A friend. A boyfriend. A student. A son. A boy. 

He could be all those things up until the point when he had to be a sacrifice.


	17. Capture

Draco woke to red. The canopy above him made him sit up abruptly. He looked around, trying to get his bearings. It was the redhead popping up in the bed over that made everything click. He performed the spell last night. He was in Harry’s body. The plan was about to fall into place, and everything was almost over.

“Mate, wha’s wrong?”

Draco shoved himself into a more respectable position. “Nothing, Weasley.”

The blue eyes widened, before settling into understanding. “Malfoy.” He looked around the dorm to make sure everyone was already at breakfast. They were. Draco seethed internally. He hated being the last one up. Apparently Harry’s body was unfazed by Draco’s opinions on the matter. “You switched bodies again. Harry told me that’s happened before. You’d think he would have warned me...”

Draco felt his stomach drop, knowing exactly why Harry hadn’t told him. If Weasley knew, Harry would have to deal with saying goodbye--just in case one of them didn’t make it out alive. That would be too painful to bear. Draco had asked Harry not to tell Pansy and Blaise of their plan for the same reason.

They all knew today was the day everything would go down--the Order, Dumbledore’s Army, the Death Eaters. Only Draco, Harry, Sev, and whichever Gryffindors Harry told knew the whole truth. Even so, neither boy had told anyone they were switching bodies.

“We agreed not to tell anyone.” Harry’s voice sounded strange to his ears. It wasn’t like he remembered it--Draco put more bite into his words.

He knew the exact moment Weasley realized the implications of that statement. He paled until the freckles on his nose stood out like ink on parchment. “Oh. I see.”

The solemn quiet was too much. “Weasley, while you may enjoy sleeping in, I most certainly do not. Perhaps we could make it to the Great Hall before all the food is gone. Then again, if you’re not there, there’s hardly a chance of the food running out.”

Weasley rolled his eyes. “Malfoy, if you’re going to pretend to be Harry, you’ll have to try a bit harder than that.”

Draco glared. “Fine, _Ron_.” He put on his best dorky smile, hoping he captured the adorable picture Harry made with his round glasses and innocence. “Let’s go to breakfast. Hermione’s probably already waiting for us. I hope they have strawberry jam.”

Ron eyed him warily. “That’s creepy as hell.”

Draco raised his brows imperiously in a very un-Harry expression. “You asked for it.”

“Come on,” the redhead grumbled, climbing out of bed groggily. He pulled a homemade sweater over his head along with a pair of trousers. Draco looked at the mess Harry left of his trunk. There were oversized items mixed in with the fitted ones Draco bought him, and his robes and muggle clothes mingled without organization. Draco rolled his eyes. His own walk-in trunk was impeccably organized, with muggle and wizarding clothes separated, as well as color-coded and ordered by level of dress. He’d have to help Harry do the same if they returned.

 _When_.

In the end, he settled for a pair of dark jeans and one of the few red shirts he bought. Putting on the awful color felt like a betrayal to the very essence of his being, and both his Slytherin side and his fashion sensibilities were offended. However, being as Gryffindor as possible was the best plan of action for the moment.

The two boys nodded at each other once they were ready, and exited without another word. A bushy-haired girl paced the room, an open book in her hands. She looked up when they reached the foot of the stairs.

“Hey, ‘Mione,” Weasley greeted casually.

“Granger.” Draco walked past the girl to the exit without another word.

From behind him, he heard, “Malfoy’s possessed Harry’s body. It’s some creepy shit.”

“Quit flirting with your girlfriend and get a move on, Weasel.”

A grumble was his only response.

 

Draco made his way to the Headmaster’s office alone. At breakfast, a note had arrived at the Gryffindor table asking for his presence as soon as classes finished. Granger looked almost teary as he left, which made his heart pang in a way he wasn’t expecting. Stupid Gryffindors making a Hufflepuff out of him. With how often he compared himself to a Hufflepuff lately, he was beginning to wonder if the Sorting Hat made a mistake.

When he knocked on the door to Sev’s new office, he felt a sense of finality. This was it. They were finally doing this. He’d say goodbye to his godfather, and then it was up to sheer luck whether or not he survived the night.

“Enter.”

Before the man could comprehend what was happening, Draco wrapped him in a tight hug. “I love you, Sev.”

The Headmaster tensed for a moment before relaxing. “Draco.” They pulled apart. “I won’t ask how you’re here, but I’m glad you are.”

“I couldn’t just not say goodbye.”

Severus looked at him intently. “Don’t give up so easily. There’s a great chance you’ll survive this.”

Draco shook his head. “You don’t have to comfort me. I know Voldemort will want me dead as soon as he realizes his wand won’t kill Harry.”

Severus nodded, but there was something in his eyes that said he was holding back information. Draco wondered what it was, but changed the subject before he could start grasping onto hope.

“Is everything in place?”

Snape pulled out his wand absently. “Yes, Longbottom has been given the horcruxes and his orders.” At Draco’s snort, the man rolled his eyes. “I know, but Potter thinks him equipped for the job. Trusting Longbottom with something so important seems unwise, but...Potter says he trusts the boy with his life. Which may be what this comes down to.”

Draco didn’t want to think about that. “The Order is ready to come through the Vanishing Cabinet?”

“Indeed. I’ll be waiting to let them out on the other side.”

Draco swallowed. “This is it then.”

Snape nodded. “This is it.”

“Thank you,” the blond said softly. “For everything.” Sev smiled--the smile reserved only for him.

“You’ve grown into a strong young man.”

“I had help.”

Severus looked sad and tired as he said simply, “Not enough.”

“You helped.”

“And you in return.”

“Goodbye.” Severus opened his mouth to cut the boy off, but Draco held up a hand. “No, I need to do this. Just in case.”

“Goodbye.” Severus broke eye contact, and Draco could have sworn his dark eyes were glistening. He cast a quick Tempus. “It’s time.”

“Together?” Draco asked, holding out a hand.

Severus ignored the hand and pulled him into a final embrace. “Always.”

Draco felt a soft pressure against his temple. Snape’s wand. The hand shook almost imperceptibly. Draco didn’t comment. He knew he was shuddering just as much.

“Stupefy.”

The world went dark.

 

Draco awoke in a cell. He was in the Malfoy Manor dungeons. He felt a sharp pain in his forehead, and realized with a lurch that he was still in Harry’s body. And his scar was burning. Which could only mean...

“Harry Potter,” a cold voice hissed. Draco looked up, eyes as defiant and Gryffindor as he could make them.

“Tom.” He remembered Harry said the Dark Lord hated being called that.

He hissed, but his feral grin didn’t falter. “At last I have you in my clutches. And this time, my power is at its fullest. Care for a duel?”

Draco pushed to a sitting position against the wall. “You sure you’re up for it? It didn’t go so well for you last time.”

The Dark Lord’s lip curled, but he didn’t respond to the bait. “Draw your wand.”

Draco wondered what would happen if he were to die in Harry’s body. Would they both be killed? Did the killing curse affect the soul or the body? There was no time to figure it out. He drew Harry’s wand.

“ _Crucio!_ ”  
“Expelliarmus!” Draco knew from countless fake duels that Harry always went for disarming first. The spells met in the middle. Draco wasn’t sure he could hold off the Cruciatus Curse. Would it be weakened since he was the wand’s true master? Or would it prevail since the curse he sent back was weak?

A shriek from Voldemort broke the connection. There was a snapping sound, and Draco looked up to see the Dark Lord staring at his wand in shock. A thin crack ran up the side of the wand.

“Lucius, Severus, stupify the boy. I must confer with our prisoner.”

Draco knew from sitting in on the meetings that the prisoner he referred to was Ollivander. Soon, Voldemort would realize he had to kill Draco to gain power over the wand. He and Harry needed to switch back before then. But how to get him here?

Severus and his father stepped up to the bars, the latter snarling something fierce. Draco wondered at the expression. Had he once looked like that? He hoped not. Sev looked at him with something like relief, and Draco was sure his expression mirrored it. He hadn’t let his body die. Now, he just needed to figure out how to switch back before Voldemort went after him.  

His father looked just as cold and unfeeling as ever, but even so, Draco couldn’t help but remember the few times he came to life. When he taught him to ride a broom. When Mother took them to France on a holiday just for fun--no business opportunities or events to go to. The day Draco got his Hogwarts letter.

Despite knowing his father saw him as an heir instead of a son, he knew the man loved him in his own way. And Draco loved his father too. While Severus filled the position better than Lucius ever did, Draco knew nothing could ever replace the feeling of the few hugs Lucius gave him. Nothing could feel more satisfying than seeing the pleased expression of his father’s face. Draco hated himself for it, but he knew he’d never truly get over wanting to make his father proud.

Part of him was glad he’d die before his father found out just how far Draco had drifted from the path he made for him. Part of him was sad he wasn’t confident enough in their relationship to tell him the truth. That Lucius would never know the little things about Draco that made him who he was. That he wouldn’t know the big things. He wouldn’t know his son died happy and loved, or that it wasn’t because of him. He wouldn’t know he changed sides. That Draco was a blood traitor who was in love with his Master’s arch enemy. He wouldn’t know _Draco_. And as much as the boy wished he could be okay with that, he wasn’t.

“Stupefy.”

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Harry had spent the day in Draco’s room. He didn’t trust his acting skills enough to keep him from getting killed, so it was safer simply to avoid all interaction. Draco’s room was filled with books on every aspect of Potions imaginable, as well as knick knacks from different countries around the world. Harry didn’t know how much Draco had traveled, but he supposed he should have guessed, seeing as the Malfoys were wealthy and had connections everywhere. It made him smile when he noticed the moonstone pendant on his neck. Even though Draco had enough jewelry to trade for three muggle houses, he opted to wear the one Harry gave him.

Harry tried to read for a while, but quickly gave up. Potions didn’t interest him, and his thoughts were too jumbled to concentrate anyways. He wondered if Draco was in the dungeons yet. At what point would it be safe to wander down and switch back?

Worries warred in the pit of his stomach. What if they were wrong and having ownership over the wand wouldn’t save Draco? What if he was dead already and there was nothing Harry could do? Someone would tell him if ‘Harry Potter’ was dead, wouldn’t they? Would he feel something if Draco died in his body? Would he be stuck? Would he die too?

When Yaxley showed up at his door, it was almost a relief simply to have a distraction. “Your presence is requested by the Dark Lord.”

Harry followed him down to what looked to be part of the dungeons. It was a large square room with a single table against the far wall and two chairs pushed up next to it. There were no windows, and the door fell shut behind him with a heavy thud. An interrogation room? He didn’t like the sound of that.

After a moment, the door flew open. In walked Lord Voldemort himself, Nagini trailing along behind him.

“Draco,” he greeted, expression unreadable.

“My Lord,” Harry replied, bowing as low as he could. “You requested me?”

Voldemort stroked his wand absentmindedly. “Yes, it seems I’ve come across a slight flaw.” He stepped up, gripping Harry’s chin in his hands. “The Elder Wand is not loyal to me.”

Harry held in the gasp that wanted to escape. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to let himself be killed in his own body before Draco got hurt. “My Lord?” he forced out.

“It seems its loyalty lies with the one who killed its former master.” Voldemort’s red eyes were fiery in his pale face. Something felt strange, and Harry realized it was that he couldn’t feel burning in his scar. Instead, he felt a dull pulsing in his left forearm. “You have been a good servant, Draco, and I hate to let go of such potential, but the only way for me to ever truly control this wand is for you to die. Goodbye...” He left the room after a quick hiss to Nagini, which Harry understood perfectly. _“Kill him.”_

The slithering sound across the stone made his insides squirm. He drew his wand, but the snake attacked, knocking it to the ground with a clatter.

_“Kill...kill the boy...yes...Master will be very pleased...”_

Almost unconsciously, Harry began to hiss back. _“Don’t kill me.”_ The words felt natural in his mouth, and he was grateful for Draco’s practice with the language.

Nagini paused. _“The boy is a Parselmouth.”_

_“Yes, I am. I’m like you. Part of your master lives inside me. If you kill me, a part of him dies.”_

The snake narrowed its diamond eyes. _“He lies...”_

 _“I’m not lying.”_ Harry heard a noise from behind the snake, but he didn’t dare look up to see what it was. He couldn’t break concentration. This was his only chance. _“I don’t want the Dark Lord to be harmed. If you kill me, he will be.”_ If he distracted the snake long enough, maybe he would be able to reach his wand.

Nagini coiled up. _“Master has given the order. Must kill...”_ The serpent sprang from its crouch, jaw wide. Harry held out his hands to block as best he could, closing his eyes tight. A dull _shink_ sounded, followed by a wet thud. Harry opened his eyes to find Snape standing above a beheaded snake, holding a dripping Sword of Gryffindor. Nagini dissolved before his eyes.

“Thanks,” Harry said breathlessly.

The man nodded, eyes intense. “Draco is waiting for you in the dungeon at the end of the hall. You must switch back before the Dark Lord realizes Nagini is dead. If you want Draco to survive, you must let yourself be killed now.”

Harry nodded, running through the possibilities in his head. When Snape held open the door, he peered outside before running down the stone hallway. He was breathless when he reached the end. He felt a flood of relief when his eyes met green ones, and then nothing.

 

“Harry,” a voice whispered. His eyelids felt heavy, but he forced them open. Grey eyes stared back. He let out what was almost a sob.

“Draco.”

Cold hands grabbed his through the bars he now sat behind. “What happened?”

Harry tried to even out his breathing. “Voldemort sent Nagini after me...er, you. Snape cut off her head with the Sword of Gryffindor.”

Draco paled, causing the dark spots under his eyes to stand out sharply. “So I’m supposed to be dead?” Harry nodded. “ _Shit_ , Harry. I have to get out of here before he sees me.”

“I know. Go.”

Draco didn’t move. “You have to get out of this alive, okay Scarhead?”

Harry nodded again, guilt tearing at his stomach. “I will.” Then, smiling weakly, he added, “Ferret.”

Draco’s lips didn’t turn up. “I love you.”

Harry squeezed his thin hands. “I love you, too.”

And then the hands were gone, with the boy was disappearing soon after. Harry sunk against the wall. The sound of footsteps made him freeze. And then his scar started to burn.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

“You’re not dead.” The Dark Lord’s cold fingers wrapped around Draco’s neck, pinning him to the wall.

“Good observation,” Draco spat, knowing there was no way to recover his mask. He was done for. It helped that he’d already accepted his potential death. The finality didn’t scare him as much as it once did. He realized how much he’d changed. A year ago, he wouldn’t have had the courage to stand up to the Dark Lord like this. His sense of self-preservation would have kicked in before he got nearly this far. And perhaps it was for the worse, since the change would end up being the death of him. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Those red eyes hardened. “Impudent boy.” Before Draco could move from his grasp, or strengthen his mental walls, he heard Voldemort scream, “ _Legilimens!_ ”

Draco felt the Dark Lord’s presence in his mind like a knife, cutting through memories like they were brush in a forest. Images flickered past his closed eyelids too fast. His head was near exploding, and a scream tore from his chest.

He saw his childhood. Mother dressing him in respectable clothing. Lucius’ disappointed look when he reached for the wrong fork at the dining table. Lectures on pureblood elitism. Hearing _mudblood_ and _blood traitor_ uttered beneath his parents’ breaths. Sitting stiffly and walking with poise. Being introduced to guests he didn’t know from all over the world. Being alone despite always having people around. He didn’t know them. They weren’t his friends. They were clients, and he had to always be on his best behavior, because that was what Malfoys did. Feeling proud of his wealth. His blood status. His name.

He saw the train ride to Hogwarts. Pansy and Blaise sitting in an empty car with him. Crabbe and Goyle swearing over their loyalty. Potter turning down his hand in favor of Weasley. He saw the memories flash by quickly after that, skipping through second and third year.

Fourth year slowed at the end of the Triwizard Tournament: the moment Draco realized what he didn’t want to become. When he started coming to Severus for advice. When he started questioning the things he had always known to be true.

Fifth year passed. Sixth year was like moving through sludge. Draco relived everything like it was happening for the first time. Switching places with Potter. Crying on his shoulder. Finally calling him Harry. Playing Quidditch together. Slow dancing at the Christmas Party. Sleeping in Harry’s arms at Grimmauld Place. Kissing him. Saying ‘I love you’. Harry Harry Harry...

Draco felt violated. Those memories were his and his alone. Voldemort didn’t deserve to see his happiness. Didn’t deserve Harry.

...That night in the Astronomy Tower with Harry. The night a week later when Dumbledore died in the same place...

He wanted to close off his mind, but he couldn’t. The walls were torn down--blown to pieces as if by cannon fire. It would take ages to build them back up again, and it certainly wouldn’t work while under siege.

...Breaking into Gringotts. Writing to Harry. Sending the letter and the cup through the Vanishing Cabinet...

His mother would be disappointed. Severus would be outraged. And yet there was nothing Draco could do but watch as Voldemort sifted through his personal memories. Memories that condemned him, as well as Severus. Guilt raged in every fiber of his being.

...Switching with Harry. Saying goodbye to Severus. Holding Harry’s hands outside the dungeon cell. Saying ‘I love you’ for what now looked to be the last time--

Voldemort broke the connection. He was staring at Draco with wide eyes, full of both shock and fury. He didn’t speak, simply grabbed the boy roughly by the arm and dragged him back to Harry’s cell. Draco went along without resistance, knowing his game was up.

“Draco Malfoy...falling for the famous Harry Potter. What a tragic love story,” the Dark Lord hissed. Harry watched the whole event from his slumped position at the back of the cell. He looked resigned, like he had finally given up. Perhaps that was the smart thing to do. Draco couldn’t, however, get himself to accept that. His blood raced, humming a determined song in his veins.

“How fortunate that you’ll get to see him die. Won’t that be a perfect ending...”

Draco felt his stomach drop at the cold words. _No._ Draco should be the one to die. Not Harry. Never Harry. Before Draco knew what was happening, Voldemort whipped around, pointing his wand at Harry, who didn’t react other than to look almost...relieved.

 _“Avada Kedavra!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for that cliffhanger...I love you all, I promise <3


	18. A Slytherin Heart

Harry woke in a paler version of King’s Cross Station. He blinked a few times, adjusting his glasses to be sure he wasn’t seeing things. He wasn’t. Or maybe he was, but it wasn’t at the fault of his glasses.

“Harry,” a voice said, making him turn. It was Dumbledore, his beard looking like liquid silver against the white light. 

“Professor!” Harry hugged him tightly. Where he broke away, he was frantic. “Where are we? What’s going on?”

“Harry, how much do you remember?”

He thought back on it. “Draco and I switched places. Snape killed Nagini, and then Draco and I switched back. Draco left, and then...” he trailed off, eyes widening as he realized. “And then Voldemort cast the Killing Curse on me.”

Dumbledore nodded. “You are aware that you were made into the final horcrux?”

“Yeah, Snape told me. Is that why I’m here? Wherever...here is?”

“It would seem so. Walk with me, Harry.” The old wizard led him to a park bench. Underneath it was what looked like a fetal Voldemort. 

“Is that the piece of his soul that was inside me?”

“Yes. Foul, isn’t it?”

Harry snorted. “Definitely. Is he...is Voldemort mortal now?”

“It’s hard to say. Did you destroy the other horcruxes?” They stepped away from the shrivelled soul fragment, walking along the train tracks instead. 

“Neville was in charge of destroying them once the Order came through the Vanishing Cabinet. Snape should have let them in by now, so I assume so. Then again, I’m not sure exactly how much time has passed.”

“Is one ever certain of the passage of time?” Dumbledore asked absentmindedly. Harry wanted to reply that it was a ridiculous question, but he refrained. “It’s quite lovely when it’s all quiet.”

Harry looked around, noticing the emptiness of the Station. He’d never seen it when it wasn’t full of people and trains, and now it looked ghostly. He supposed that was to be expected, seeing as he was, well dead. Wasn’t he?

“Professor, am I dead?”

The man considered it. “I believe so. But that doesn’t mean you have to stay that way.”

Harry looked at him in confusion. “What does that mean, sir?”

Dumbledore appeared to be surprised at his bemusement. “Well, do you want to go back?”

“Back to where?”

“The world of the living, Harry!”

“Yes.” He didn’t even have to consider it. Ron and Hermione were there. Draco was there. The Weasleys. The Order members. His fellow Hogwarts students. His future. Of course he wanted to go back. He wondered if anyone had ever answered that question differently. If he’d been asked after fifth year--after Sirius’ death--would he have changed his response? He hoped the answer was no, since that would mean he never would have come to love Draco--would have missed out on so much--but he couldn’t say so with certainty. 

Dumbledore was right. It was peaceful here. The pale light made everything else seem so far away. It would be so easy to stay here in the quiet forever. But the draw of the living was far more enticing. 

A train whistle sounded in the distance. 

“Then you should,” Dumbledore said simply. “I am stuck here, but you aren’t. If you want to go back, then go. I shan't stop you.” 

Harry furrowed his brow. “How? How do I...go back to the living?”

Dumbledore smiled, that twinkle Harry missed back in his eyes. “Wake up.” And then the man walked away, towards the sound of the train whistle. 

Harry stared after him, wondering what exactly he meant. Could it really be that simple? Could Harry just  _ wake up _ ? He wondered if all of this was some sort of strange hallucination. Or perhaps he was truly dead, and this was all death was: a strange dream about trains and Headmasters and pieces of souls. 

Somewhere in his mind, he knew this was more. His location wasn’t random. King’s Cross was a place of choices. Dumbledore once told him choices were what made a person who he was, but he’d always thought that was garbage. He had never had a choice, really. He forfeited the right to choices the moment he survived the Killing Curse. Dumbledore, Voldemort, and everyone else decided who he was going to be, what he was going to do.

The few choices he did make always seemed like mistakes. Turning down Draco’s friendship. Telling the Sorting Hat not to put him in Slytherin. Taking the Triwizard Cup with Cedric. Walking into the trap at the Department of Mysteries. 

But there were some good choices too. He chose Ron and Hermione. He chose Gryffindor, and while Slytherin may have been good for him, there was no doubt Gryffindor was as well. He chose to trust Sirius. He chose to love Draco. He chose to sacrifice himself for those he loved. 

And maybe it was okay that his choices sometimes ended in failure, if sometimes they brought him that much joy. Maybe that was how life worked. You take chances, and make choices. You fail, you get up, and then you succeed, only to fail again the next day. Perhaps choices did make you who you were. He’d been looking at it all wrong. It wasn’t about choosing what happened to you. It was about choosing what to do in response.

And now, he knew what he had to do. He had to choose life. 

So he woke up.

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

Draco couldn’t breath. He was certain his heart had stopped beating entirely. What was the point when the person it beat for lie dead on the ground? When those beautiful green eyes--always full of such light and strength and fire--were dull and lifeless? 

He felt his limbs start to shake. Voldemort’s dark cackle filled the air. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t real. There was no situation in which Harry Potter, _the_ _Boy Who Fucking Lived_ should be dead on the ground. Even when Harry was old and weak, Draco somehow imagined he’d be carried off by angels or something equally ridiculous. There was no way he could be crumpled and dead on the floor of a dungeon. Not _Harry Potter_. 

But that wasn’t even what did him in. He didn’t give a fuck what happened to the savior of the wizarding world. He cared about  _ Harry _ . And  _ Harry _ wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t smiling crookedly. He wasn’t furrowing his brow in concentration. He wasn’t running his fingers through that unruly hair. He wasn’t snorting or laughing or grinning or being stupidly Gryffindor. 

_ He wasn’t even fucking breathing _ . 

So when Voldemort continued to laugh that cold, breathy sound, something in him snapped. 

Draco didn’t care whether he had the power or the ability to kill the Dark Lord. He didn’t care what it meant for wizarding society, or his family, or the plan. He didn’t know if the horcruxes were destroyed yet, or if killing him would even rid the world of him forever. All he knew was that he wanted to cause Voldemort as much pain as he caused by killing Harry. 

He finally understood what Dumbledore meant when he said Draco would find his bravery given a worthy cause. Draco felt as stupid and reckless as Godric Gryffindor himself and he didn’t give a shit about what anyone else thought. Because Harry was dead, and he was going to destroy the man responsible. 

He now understood what it meant to feel blood lust. When he killed Dumbledore, he felt empty and guilty and heavy. But now, his blood sizzled in his veins, and his heart hammered like a drum. The war cry in his chest vocalized itself in a scream as he raised his wand.  _ “Avada Kedavra!” _

He felt power flood his senses, magic writhing under his skin in a way he’d never experienced. His fingers and toes tingled with electricity, and everything was on fire. A small part of him distractedly wondered if this was what it was like having as much magic as Harry. It was a wonder he could manage simple spells. Having access to this much raw power was intoxicating. Draco felt it like peppers on his tongue where the incantation left his body. He felt it in his ears, ringing and cottony. He felt it in his bones, a steadily rising vibration making its way through him. 

Voldemort’s shriek sounded like it was coming from a million places at once. Did Neville destroy the horcruxes just as he cast the spell? The timing was impeccable and Draco would really have to reconsider his opinion of the boy. His attention was drawn back to the Dark Lord when he threw back his head in pure agony, his screaming doubling. 

Draco knew that when Dumbledore died, it had been painless. He knew because he felt the calm in those few moments. Now, he knew just as surely that he was causing Voldemort as much pain as possible. His mouth spoke the Killing Curse, but his heart sang the Cruciatus. 

When Voldemort finally collapsed, his screams stopped. For a moment, Draco couldn’t hear anything. It was like he was in a bubble. He felt empty, and while he knew he should be exhausted from so much spent magic, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything at all. His body was numb, and it was all he could do to keep his muscles from giving out. 

The Dark Lord lay dead at his feet. How strange that the darkest wizard of all time died like anyone else. Like his countless victims. Like the muggles he killed. The wizards and witches. Like Harry. He died a man, and while Draco knew it was a good sign, since last time he left no body, he couldn’t help but feel the killer didn’t deserve it. 

A sharp intake of breath popped his bubble. He glanced around as sound and feeling returned to his body. 

“...Draco?”

His heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t believe his eyes or ears. Maybe he had passed out from magic usage and was dreaming. Maybe he was--

“Draco,” the voice said more confidently, a hint of relief in the sound. 

That was all it took for Draco to dissolve into tears. He sunk to the ground, wishing he had the strength to make his way closer to Harry. 

“He killed you, and I--I--” Draco choked, thinking almost subconsciously how disappointed his father would be at the display. 

Harry shh-ed him softly, just like he did all those months ago in the abandoned classroom. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

And for the first time, the words didn’t sound like a lie.

 

It was the screams that finally broke them from their trance. Draco unlocked the door to Harry’s cell, and then they were racing to help out their allies. He almost wished he could just keep his eyes closed when they reached the battle. Blood was everywhere, bodies strewn across the floor. 

He didn’t want to identify them. While Harry only had to deal with the deaths of one side of the war, Draco knew people on both. He didn’t want to be a Death Eater, but he couldn’t feel good about watching the others die. He knew these people--had grown up with them, looked up to them.

He knew the part fear could play in the equation. Sure, there were the few crazies like his Auntie Bella who enjoyed the kill, but most were just like him--following the Dark Lord because they had no other choice. Because they were scared for their families or their lives. Draco knew Harry might not say the same, as he would never side with Voldemort out of fear, but he was a Gryffindor. And as much as Draco hated cowardice--hated the way it broke people like his father--he understood it. And he couldn’t condemn these people for it.

It was only when Harry sunk to the ground that Draco forced himself to look. Remus Lupin was in a bloody heap on the floor. Several nasty curses looked to have hit him, some of them clearly at the courtesy of Dolohov. Harry felt for a pulse under the collar of his shirt. 

“He’s gone.” The boy’s voice came out as a croak. Draco stood in silent shock. He’d seen people die, of course. He had been with the Death Eaters for over a year now, and in the past few months alone, he had seen brutal murders. But he hadn’t known the victims. Hadn’t grown to care about them. And he could admit now that he did care about Remus Lupin. The petty stigmas against werewolves seemed foolish to him now. He only wished it hadn’t taken him so long to truly realize it. 

Harry stood, walking onward without another word. As they passed body upon body, most unrecognizable, but some familiar, Draco felt a darkness descending on him, not unlike that of the dementors. 

“Harry, just how many people did Snape send through the Vanishing Cabinet?” He hated the way his voice wavered. 

Harry shook his head as if to clear it. “The Order. Most of the Hogwarts staff. Some of D.A.--the Patil twins, Lavender, Hannah, Susan, Luna, Ron, Hermione, I think a few others.”

Draco didn’t comment, though they knew they were both thinking the same thing. There were a lot of lives in play, and most of whom they knew personally. 

Neither stopped when they saw Tonks lying on the ground. It was too painful. Draco knew it was his aunt’s work--she would have found it amusing to kill off her own cousin. She never would have let anyone else do it. 

They passed a few more familiar corpses--some of them were professors he’d seen at the Head Table but didn’t have classes with. Lavender Brown was among the dead, the gashes across her flesh marking her as Fenrir’s kill. Parvati Patil was crying over her body, planting small kisses on her hand as if they would bring her back. Draco had to look away. 

For a while, he was sure Parvati, Harry, and him were the only ones left alive. No voices sounded. No spells were cast. No bodies fell. They walked only amongst the fallen. And then they stepped into the foyer. People were huddled on the steps, while others tended to the injured lying on the floor. Madame Pomfrey bustled around between them, giving potions and casting healing spells.

Harry quickly made his way over to Mrs. Weasley, who stood over the lifeless body of Draco’s aunt. 

“Are they all gone?” he asked quietly. 

“Yes, dear. The Ministry just showed up to take the survivors to Azkaban. And You-Know-Who?” Her voice was hesitant, as if she was afraid to know the answer. 

“Dead.” Harry smiled slightly at the blond beside him. “Draco killed him.”

Mrs. Weasley looked shocked, but then she pulled them both into a hug. “I’m so proud of you both.” Draco forced a small smile onto his face, but it turned out as more of a grimace.

“What about Ron? Fred and George? Ginny?” Harry asked.

Two heads popped up beside them then, one bushy and one obnoxiously red. 

“Harry!” Granger exclaimed. “You’re alright! Thank God.” She pulled him into a hug. Weasley patted Harry on the shoulder warmly. 

Mrs. Weasley smiled at them all. “Fred and George stayed back with Minerva, Fleur, and Bill to guard the school in case of a second attack. It seems we surprised them by showing up here, however, and they remained safe. Ginny’s fine as well.”

The Golden Trio let out nearly identical relieved sighs. Draco stood off to the side, feeling uncomfortable and nearly sick with the dread pooling in his stomach.

“Mrs. Weasley?” he asked after he couldn’t take it any longer.

She looked at him again in surprise. He wondered if she always would--the single snake in her den of cubs. “Yes, dear?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know...if--if my parents survived, would you?” He shut his eyes, not wanting to see a look of pity on her face. He felt Harry’s arm go around his waist, and leaned into the half-embrace gratefully.

“They’re alive,” she said kindly. “They’ve been taken by the Ministry to await their trials.”

He exhaled, opening his eyes. And then he was hugging Harry, both of them holding onto each other as tightly as they could, giving and taking strength in equal measure. 

“They’re all destroyed, Harry,” a voice said from behind them. They broke away. A very uncomfortable looking Neville Longbottom stood a few feet from them. Draco felt a faint hint of a smirk fall into place. Even at a time like this he could appreciate the shock he and Harry brought those around him. 

“Thanks, Neville,” Harry said. “We couldn’t have done it without you.” 

The boy shrugged humbly, but looked pleased. A wispy blonde girl appeared at his side. Loony Lovegood. Draco had always secretly found her amusing--well, other than the time Harry took her to the Christmas Party, during which he felt extremely possessive and jealous, not that he’d admit it.

“Hello, Harry. Draco. Your wrackspurts are in tune.” 

They nodded their greetings in return, neither questioning her strange observance. Soon, the other D.A. members and surviving professors showed up, along with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley, and the additional Order members. Severus took his place at Draco’s side. 

“Well,” Molly Weasley said after a while, “We’d best be getting back. Minerva will be waiting on the other side to let us through. St. Mungo's is sending staff to collect the injured, as well as morticians for the dead...” Her voice trailed off at the end, causing her husband to put an arm around her.

“You heard what she said. Let’s head out.” Kingsley Shacklebolt took off towards the Vanishing Cabinet, with the rest trailing after him in silence. 

Harry and Draco hung back. They kissed slowly for a moment before again pulling each other into an embrace.

“It’s all over,” Harry said softly.

“I know.”

“My whole life has been about fighting Voldemort, and he’s finally gone.” Draco didn’t respond, knowing Harry had more to say. “It just feels a bit like my purpose is gone, you know? I mean, I’m glad he’s gone, but I don’t know what to do now.” He pulled away, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, this is awful. People are dead, and the war is finally over, and all I can talk about is how purposeless I feel without having a dark wizard after me.”

Draco wrapped his arms around the small of Harry’s back. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“I just--I’m not good at anything else. Anything but fighting him.”

Draco kissed him once more. “You’re good at this.”

Harry snorted. “Snogging isn’t exactly career material.” 

Draco smiled against his lips. “Are you sure? I’m certain I could make it worth your while.”

Harry slapped him slightly. “I’m serious.”

Draco sobered, grey eyes looking warmly into green. “I know. And you don’t have to worry. You’re a brilliant wizard, and a caring person. Your academics could use some work...”

Harry stuck his tongue out. Draco captured it, and spoke around a kiss, “But even so, I know you’ll find something wonderful to do with your life. I wouldn’t even mind if it’s me.”

Harry looked scandalised, but the expression quickly turned to mischief. “I guess I don’t really mind that much either.”

“You ready to go back?”

Harry considered for a moment before shaking his head. “I want to stay here a while if that’s alright. Reflect. And if we go back to Hogwarts, we can’t be together like this.”

Draco nodded. “The stars look beautiful from outside the Manor.”

Harry smiled. “Take me there?” Hand in hand, they walked out the front doors, away from the stench of death, and the cold stone of the battle ground.  

“We could, you know,” Draco said after a while.

Harry looked at him in confusion. “Could what?”

“Be together like this at Hogwarts. There’s no war stopping us anymore.” 

Harry smiled. “I’d like that. But we have to come up with an outrageous way to come out. Wouldn’t want to disappoint the Prophet.”

Draco smirked. “I think we can manage.”

As they settled down beneath the starry sky, Harry exhaled contentedly, scooting closer to Draco. 

“You realize we haven’t seen each other since before Christmas.”

“Like I could forget. I swear I was nearly looking forward the the battle just to see you again.”

“Me too.”

“It’s really over,” Draco said quietly, an echo of Harry’s words from earlier.

“Yeah. It is.”

Draco smiled, turning away from the stars to face Harry. In that moment, those green eyes were far more spectacular. “I love you.”

Harry grinned, glasses hanging slightly off-center as he too turned onto his side. “I love you, too.”

They stayed like that until the last of the bodies were carried away. It was impossible to forget what had happened, but for a few short moments, they were more than soldiers in a war. They were stars, and the constellations looked to them in wonder.


	19. New Beginnings

Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, vaguely listening to the conversations happening around him. It was the last day of finals testing, and his brain was shot. He had pulled another all-nighter studying and was paying for it dearly. It really wasn’t fair to have finals only a month after fighting a war, but such was life.

After the battle, there was a two week leave from school to mourn and hire new teachers. Draco and Harry spent it at the Weasleys, along with Ron and Hermione. Draco seemed more comfortable around the admittedly overwhelming family, which made Harry happy.

Dealing with the aftermath of the war made him decidedly less happy. The trials had already started, though the Malfoys’ wouldn’t occur until after school let out. Funeral after funeral was attended, along with a large one to memorialize all the lives lost on the side of the light. It was hard to wake up in the mornings knowing that was all he had in store for him. More black clothes. More memories. More endings.

The students were all placed in therapy, and though some needed it more than others, it was beneficial to everyone. Draco was getting better at talking about his feelings as a result. He still had a ways to go, but his progress was admirable. Harry found his counseling sessions helpful overall, though he sometimes wished he didn’t have to talk about what happened. Part of him just wanted to move on. His counselor prompted him to speak about everything instead.

So he talked about Remus, and Tonks, and the way he felt like he no longer had a family to call his own. He talked about how purposeless he felt, and the way his sense of self worth dropped when the war ended. It was the only time he felt comfortable talking about his own needs. Draco helped him get past his fear of being selfish--teaching him that it’s okay to live for himself and to want things just because he did. He wondered if he might have learned that sooner had he been sorted into Slytherin. It was nice embracing the entirety of his emotions, even if it made him uncomfortable sometimes. He felt like he was healing, and his counselor reminded him that’s what it meant to move on.

Remus and Tonks’ baby Teddy Lupin was sent to live with Andromeda, his grandmother, though Harry and Draco offered to lend a hand once they graduated. The child was one of the few bright things Harry could find in those two weeks. Teddy was a beginning when everything around him was coming to an end. His giggling face made Harry smile in a way he hadn’t in a long while--like he wasn’t worried it would be his last. The baby liked Draco far more than Draco claimed to like the baby, but Harry noticed the blond’s shy amazement when Teddy’s fist grasped his finger.

Upon getting back, he and Harry had slipped back into their secret relationship, which was becoming more and more difficult. When they passed in the halls, Harry wanted to pin him against the wall--and fighting was the last thing on his mind. When he overheard a snide comment, he wanted nothing more than to snark back with a giggle. He _did_ snark back, but the scowl he put on made his face hurt. They both agreed they wanted to come out officially, but neither one had suggested a solid plan for doing so, and as such, nothing happened.

In private, however, _lots_ of things happened. Harry snuck Draco into the Gryffindor dormitories nearly every night, since they both decided they were the least likely to get hexed there if caught. They had even fulfilled their vow to have sex in the Astronomy Tower, which was wonderful, but Harry decided he much preferred the bed. He didn’t think it was possible to love Draco more than he did, but each day he was surprised at how his feelings only seemed to grow.

Now, he slathered jam on his toast disinterestedly. He knew he’d flunk his exams today. He had Charms and Potions, and while he had studied with Draco, there hadn’t actually been much...well, studying. Ron and Hermione held hands as they talked, and Harry smiled at the sight. Ron had finally bucked up the courage to ask her out, and of course, she said yes. The two were practically inseparable, and it brightened Harry’s day each time he saw them looking at each other that way. It fit into his idea of new beginnings in this time of so many endings.

He had just turned his attention back to his breakfast when Draco sauntered up to the table.

“Potter.”

Harry looked up in surprise. Although they kept up their hostilities in classes, they rarely went out of their way to do so anymore. “What is it, Malfoy?” He stood up, crossing his arms across his chest. He could feel the eyes of the entire school on them, watching in anticipation for the fight that would surely arise.

“I hate your face.”

Harry blinked at him. “Sorry?”

The blond only smirked. “You heard me. I hate your face.”

“That’s not the most impressive insult you’ve ever used. Out of practice, Malfoy?”

“No, Potter. You don’t understand.” Draco stepped forwards. Harry could sense the room going quiet. “I hate,” he started, “your face,” he pulled Harry close to him, their lips nearly touching, “not being stuck to mine.”

And then he kissed him. And it was hot, and fiery, with tongue and teeth attacking violently. The entire school erupted. Some cheered. Others catcalled and wolf whistled. A few disgusted sounds were made, but Harry didn’t care. He felt alive. He couldn’t understand why they hadn’t done this earlier. And as much as Harry generally hated the spotlight, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to Draco’s accusation that he was an exhibitionist. Or perhaps he’d just been hiding the truth for far too long.

When they finally broke away, Draco sat down beside Harry at the Gryffindor table as if nothing was out of the ordinary. The table was nearly silent, with a few whispers sounding from further down. Hermione and Ron were both rolling their eyes, but Harry ignored them too.

“Bit dramatic, wasn’t it?” Harry asked under his breath.

“Potter, I’m always dramatic. You’d think you would know this by now.”

Harry grinned, taking Draco’s hand in plain view of the school and relishing in the fact that he could do that now. “I think I like dramatic.”

 

x*x*X*x*x

 

They were back in the Astronomy Tower. It was still one of Draco’s favorite places, and despite the bad memories it now held, it also held good ones. Harry had asked him to meet here tonight, as it was the last night before everyone would go home. Before they would graduate and no longer be students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Before they would start their new lives.

Harry was leaning his elbows on the far ledge, looking out at the stars. Draco stood a bit behind him, relaxed, but still holding onto the good posture ingrained in him from an early age. Some habits were hard to break. He wondered if that was the only thing his father taught him that he could still be proud of. It was a depressing thought, but it was better than thinking about the trial, so he didn’t mind much.

A hissing sound broke him from his thoughts. Ouro flicked his head out of Harry’s sleeve.

 _“It’s cold out here,”_ the snake whined. Draco wasn’t aware a snake could whine, but he was quickly proved wrong.

Harry giggled. “I forgot he was in there.” Then, looking at Ouro in concentration, he hissed, _“Do you want me to send you back to Gryffindor?”_

_“Slytherin...”_

_“Alright.”_ Using wandless magic without a thought, Harry sent the snake to what was apparently the dungeons.

After the horcrux inside him died, Harry lost his ability to speak to snakes. He was slowly but surely learning the skill from Draco, who lent him the book he used. Neither truly needed to speak it, but they liked being able to talk to Ouro, or to each other without anyone overhearing. It was a side project that detracted from studying a bit, but paid off in the long run when they had secret conversations in class. Parseltongue could be spoken very quietly when necessary, and it often sounded similar to breathing when professors passed by. There were also some _very_ dirty things that could be said when no one else understood.

“It’s scary to think we’ll be leaving here after all these years,” Harry said after a while.

Draco snorted. “Harry, you fought Voldemort when you were a baby. Graduating can’t be high on your list of ‘scary’.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s the scariest thing I can think of, besides what I’m about to do.” The boy--or man, Draco corrected, realizing for the first time how much they’d both aged--turned to him, straightening slightly. His green eyes were determined, but anxious.

“Merlin, you aren’t going to _jump_ , are you?”

Harry blinked owlishly for a moment before laughing. “No, I’m not going to jump.”

“Then what...” Draco trailed off as Harry dropped down on one knee. “No.”

Harry ignored him, a controlled fire in his eyes. “I love you with all my heart. I know we’re still young, but I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. Draco Lucius Malfoy, will you marry me?”

The velvet box in his hands held a silver ring inlaid with small diamonds. Harry was surprisingly good at picking out jewelry. Draco wore the pendant from Christmas even now--he rarely took it off anymore, even when he slept or...er, did other things that didn’t involve much sleeping.

Draco scowled down at Harry, pulling a similar box out of his own pocket and throwing it at Harry’s face. He had the nerve to catch it. Stupid Seeker reflexes.

“I was going to do it,” Draco said, a slight whine slipping into his tone. “Of course you had to beat me to it. Bloody Gryffindor...”

Harry looked adorably nervous, peering out from under his dark fringe with puppy dog eyes. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it's a yes. Now get off your knees and bloody kiss me already.”

Harry smirked. “I thought you liked me on my knees.”

“Oh, shut up.”

And then they were kissing, velvet boxes tossed on the floor, as they were far less important than the people they tied together. The kiss was brimming with so much love Draco’s chest ached with it. Harry’s lips and hands on his skin were the only things that were real. He felt fire spark where those fingertips touched, and the heat was even stronger in the cool breeze.

“You know,” Draco drawled once they broke away for air, “My parents will freak when they hear.”

“They’ll get over it,” Harry said easily.

“Malfoys don’t spend their lives with half-bloods.”

Harry grinned mischievously. “But Potters do.”

Draco’s jaw dropped in a very un-Malfoy way. “Did you just ask me to take your name?”

“Maybe. Do you want it?”

“Draco Potter...” he tested on his tongue. “Not bad. It’s definitely better than Harry Malfoy. However, when I tell them _that_ , my parents will _definitely_ freak.”

 _“When?”_ Harry asked hopefully.

And then they were kissing again.

Draco knew they weren’t perfect--that they’d fight and argue and get on each other’s nerves more than humanly possible. But he also knew he wouldn’t have it any other way. Harry challenged him in a way no one else could. He brought out his anger, his courage, his passion, his love. They had walked in each other’s shoes, and yet still had so much more to discover. After dancing around each other since they were eleven, they finally sorted out the strings connecting them. And what a beautiful song they played.

When Draco opened his eyes, it was almost like he was looking in the mirror at the Dursleys’ once more. Seeing the reflection of a beautiful boy who was so much like himself, yet so different. And as Harry grinned at him, he changed his mind. What they had, however insane and ridiculous it was, was absolutely and undeniably perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter before the epilogue, and I just want to thank everyone for their comments, tumblr asks, and kudos, and just for reading. You are all so lovely, and it has been such a beautiful adventure <3 Stay tuned for the epilogue!


	20. Epilogue

19 Years Later...

 

A loud whistle blew as the train pulled up to the station. The steam cleared to show a bustling crowd of robed and muggle-clothed families, pushing trunks and hugging children and quieting owls. There were tears and smiles alike, and Harry recognized many of the faces on which he saw them. 

Ron and Hermione hugged their daughter Rose, who inherited the frizz of her mother’s hair and the color of her father’s. Despite the unruly mop, she was a beautiful girl. And with Hermione’s brains and Ron’s fiery passion, she was rather terrifying, especially with a Bludger bat in her hands. When she spotted Harry and Draco, she rushed over to meet her best friend. Hugo--her younger brother--trailed behind her. 

“Scor!” she called, wrapping the thin boy in a fierce hug. Harry smiled at his son. Scorpius James Potter was blond--the color coincidentally a shade similar to Draco’s, despite being unrelated--with pale blue eyes. He stood with Draco’s poise but wore a goofy grin that could only have been learned from Harry. 

“Hiya, Rose.” The two started up a conversation on which Houses they and their friends would be in. Lily and Hugo greeted each other as well, hugging briefly. Lily Narcissa Potter had red hair, a shade less intense than the Weasleys’, and green eyes shockingly like her namesake. Draco complained loudly when they first adopted her, saying he would never be caught dead with a ginger child, but Harry noticed him trailing his fingers through their daughter’s hair fondly from time to time. Lily and Hugo began complaining about being too young to go to Hogwarts.

“You’ll both be on the train in no time,” Harry said with a smile.

Draco rolled his eyes. “ _ You  _ didn’t have to wait in anticipation for your whole life. The children have every right to complain.”

Harry smirked at him. “You’d know all about complaining, wouldn’t you?” 

Lily giggled, and Hugo grinned widely before running back to his parents to drag them over. The children always seemed to find their banter amusing, though Harry often had to keep Draco in check to avoid using foul language around them. When they heard Lily use the f-bomb, their first reaction had been laughter, but Draco made a firm effort to use family-friendly words after that. 

“I’m going to see Vicki,” Teddy said, before jogging off to find Victoire. Although he graduated last year, he tagged along, claiming he wanted to see his only brother off to Hogwarts. Scorpius looked pleased to receive such attention, but Harry caught a look shared between Lily and Draco. Neither of them were fooled. Harry had only shaken his head. His youngest son had picked up his obliviousness. 

After their wedding, Draco and Harry asked to adopt Teddy. Andromeda was very compliant, though she insisted upon seeing him at least every week. Teddy grew into a handsome young man, opting to keep his hair blue a majority of the time, and donning several piercings that rather revolutionized Hufflepuff style. He planned to join Charlie in Romania once everyone was back in school. 

A few moments after Teddy disappeared into the steam, a very stricken Hugo returned, Ron and Hermione following behind him in amusement. 

“Teddy and Victoire are snogging!”

Draco raised a brow. “Well, I’d imagine so. Why else would he have come to see you wankers off?”

“Language, love,” Harry reminded quietly. Draco pursed his lips but appeared repentant. 

Hugo didn’t look assuaged by Draco’s comment. “But...but...they’re kissing!”

Lily smirked. “Too innocent for a little snogging, Weasley?” Draco practically beamed, while Harry laughed to himself. He’d be surprised if the girl wasn’t sorted into Slytherin. Sometimes he wondered if she practiced Draco’s expressions in the mirror. 

Ron crouched down next to Rose. “You’d better make Gryffindor, alright?”

“Ronald,” Hermione warned. 

“What? I’m just giving her a quick pep talk.”

“What part of ‘make Gryffindor or we’ll disown you’ is peppy?”

Ron sighed heavily. “Fine. Be a Slytherin for all I care.” He looked as if even the sarcasm brought him immense pain.

Rose patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. “I’m hoping for Ravenclaw.”

“That’s not too bad, I guess,” Ron conceded. 

Then the rest of the Weasleys crowded around them. It was something Harry had grown accustomed to--the entire family being invited to every gathering--and even Draco stopped making sarcastic comments when they showed up. George and Angelina stood with their children, and Fred grinned from nearby, an arm draped around Lee Jordan’s shoulders. Percy was present but stood stiffly off to the side with his wife. Bill and Fleur smiled warmly as Louis joined Scor and Rose. Ginny and Oliver filed in last, their child walking between them with a hand in each parent’s palm. 

Before Harry could begin to comprehend the new faces surrounding him, Pansy appeared and wrapped them both in a suffocating hug. For a woman so small, she had a lot of strength. Blaise popped up behind her, pulling an eleven-year-old behind him. The girl was Pansy’s, but as both of them were single, they raised her together. Harry was still baffled by their relationship after all this time. 

Luna weaved her way into the huddle dreamily. She held an unpublished Quibbler in her hands, edits made throughout. Harry subscribed to support his friend, but he hadn’t read one in years.

“Hello, Harry.”

“Hi, Luna. Are your kids going to Hogwarts this year?”

“Oh, yes. Neville is most excited to see our children in his classes.”

Dean and Seamus then showed up with their daughter and drew Luna into an enthusiastic conversation. Harry greeted them both with a smile. 

The train whistle blew again, signaling the upcoming departure. All the children grabbed their trunks and dragged them onto the train, their relatives waving goodbye tearily.

“Dad?”

Harry looked down to find Scorpius looking up at him nervously. Draco was talking to Pansy and Blaise and wasn’t listening. “What is it, Scor?”

“Will it matter to you what House I’m in?”

Harry’s brows furrowed. “Of course not. What gave you that idea?”

“Nothing, it’s just, I know Uncle Ron really dislikes Slytherin...”

“And you thought I might feel the same?” Harry guessed. The boy nodded. Harry put a hand on his shoulder. “Son, I hope your father and I have made it perfectly clear that it doesn’t matter which House you get placed in. When I was your age, I let other people turn me against Slytherin, so I told the Hat not to place me there.”

“I didn’t know that was possible.”

Harry smiled sadly. “It is. Though I hope you won’t do what I did. I don’t regret being in Gryffindor, but I do regret letting prejudice shape so much of my life. Whatever House you get placed in will be perfect for you. The Sorting Hat knows what it’s doing. And no matter which colors you come home wearing, I’ll be so very proud of you.”

Scorpius smiled shyly. “Thanks, Dad.” Harry hugged him, kissing him lightly on the forehead.

“Hurry along, now. You don’t want to miss the train.”

His son grinned, recalling Harry’s story about the time he and Ron missed the train their second year. And then he darted away to join his friends, ignoring the stares that followed him. They were all used to them by now--as children of the Boy Who Lived and the man who killed Voldemort, staring was a necessary evil. 

When the train pulled out of the station, Draco’s arm went around Harry’s waist. They waved together until they could no longer see their children.

“I love you,” Draco said, as the rest of the crowd began to depart.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing that.”

Draco raised his brows threateningly. “You’d better not, or I’ll have to find someone else to say them to. I won’t stand for boring people with my presence.”

Harry grinned. “You’re anything but boring, love.”

The steam cleared out of the air, and the sounds of the train quieted in the distance. Teddy ruffled Lily’s hair as he caught up to them, walking out of the station at her side. Harry and Draco followed behind, both smiling affectionately at their children. A new set of Hogwarts students was beginning their adventure, and while hopefully far quieter than Harry’s, theirs would be just as magical. 

Harry touched his scar absentmindedly, though it hadn’t burned in years. Draco pulled away his hand and kissed the spot softly. Harry smiled at him. His life was more beautiful than he ever could have imagined--as was the man he shared it with. They survived their childish enmity. They survived the war. They survived marriage and children and everything in between. And Harry couldn’t for the life of him imagine anything being as perfect as this.

All was well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end. I hope you enjoyed this last installment. Please leave your thoughts, as always! I want to thank all of you for your comments, and kudos, and tumblr asks, and just for reading. It has been an amazing journey, and I'm teary publishing this final installment. I plan to write many more fics, so please subscribe if you like my work. I love you all, and again, thank you <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave your thoughts below! Follow me on Tumblr (owlswithfins.tumblr.com) for updates, snippets, and other Drarry-related goodness.


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